


Alive, For Once

by Whiteasy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Bipolar Disorder, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Self-Harm, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 124,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiteasy/pseuds/Whiteasy
Summary: Reiner Braun is a young man who leads a seemingly stable life along with his roommate Pieck, in an apartment in Manhattan. However, his life is about to be turned upside down with the return of a certain man with which, long repressed feelings resurface again.
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 392
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fellow Reibert fans! I've been crazy about this ship for the last year and after consuming an insane (and maybe not so healthy) amount of fanfics about these two, I decided it was time for me to contribute with something. This is my first fanfic ever, and English isn't my native language, so please be gentle with me! I hope you'll enjoy reading this xx

**Reiner**

Reiner was checking his appearance in the mirror, still debating whether or not he should give up pushing his hair back and let his bangs fall on his forehead, when he heard Pieck whistling behind him.

“Dressed to the nines, aren’t we?” She said before taking a tentative sip of her tea and grimacing as soon as she did, most likely finding it still too hot to drink. Reiner cursed under his breath– he knew he was in for a tiresome interrogation about his plans for the night.

“One should be well dressed when going for a date, don’t you agree, Pieck?” Reiner deflected, hoping that she would drop the matter altogether. “You wore a very fancy red dress, one that wasn’t what you’d exactly call modest, for your date with David, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you’re calling whatever you’re going to do tonight a _date_ now?” She said in a mocking tone and Reiner resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her.

“Don’t you have a pile of essays that you need to mark? The night fairy won’t get them done like you think happens with the dishes you’ve been leaving in the sink every night.” Reiner said and this time, Pieck did roll her eyes at him.

“I know that you’re the one who washes the dishes, Reiner.” She said, matter-of-factly.

“I _know_ you do, and yet you never showed any intention to help, not even once.” Reiner gave up on trying to tame his hair and decided to go with his natural hairstyle. He made a mental note to get a haircut, unless he wanted to have his hair in his eyes, sooner than he wished.

He yelped when he felt Pieck lightly punch his shoulder, and turned to scowl at her while rubbing the sore spot.

“Don’t you change the subject!” She exclaimed, wagging her forefinger at him, "you’re not getting away with not telling me who you’re going to see tonight.”

Reiner wished, not for the first time, that she wasn’t this nosy when it came to his dating life.

“You don’t really _know_ them, because I’ve met them on a dating app, and I’m meeting them for champagne in half an hour.” He grumbled, moving past her to grab his phone from the coffee table so he could text his date that he would be soon on his way. At this rate, he was going to be late and if there was anything that Reiner hated the most, it was failing to be punctual.

“Champagne.” Pieck repeated dumbly.

“Yes, _champagne._ ”

“Is this code for one-night stands?” She said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Reiner sighed. He's been friends with Pieck for the last decade of his life. They went to the same high school back when they still lived in Idaho, or rather, Pieck transferred to his in their second year and they quickly bonded and became inseparable. Later, they went to the same college in New York and after they graduated, they moved to this apartment in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and have been living together for the last three years. To say that Pieck was the closest person to him wasn’t an exaggeration. She's had his back many times and he's had hers. Despite being annoyed at her meddling, he knew she only meant well and that she worried about him. Still, she sometimes took it too far. He wasn’t seventeen and naïve anymore–he was _twenty-six_. He could sleep with whomever he wanted, without her fussing over him. Yet, he knew that asking her to refrain from doing so would lead nowhere. Pieck was quite the stubborn woman and once she set her mind on something, she wouldn’t relent until she got what she wanted. In this case, it meant he’d have to tell her who he was seeing tonight, even though he knew she had a rough idea what kind of... person he made plans with.

“No, Pieck, we really are going to drink champagne or at least that’s what he said in his message earlier after saying that I looked, and I quote, _smoking hot_.” He knew how that sounded and that there was no way anyone would ever approve of him going out to meet someone he’d only spoken to that same day but, she knew this wasn’t the first time he did this.

“OK, and where are you going to spend this exquisite evening of yours?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest while balancing her mug with her left hand–something only his roommate could do without spilling a drop on the floor. “Will it be in a nice restaurant where he pays for dinner, or would it be at his _house?”_ She asked him, voice dripping with sarcasm, as if daring him to lie to her face. For a few seconds, he was tempted to, just to spite her.

“No, Pieck, I’m sure you know it’s going to be at a nearby motel. Happy?” He replied, wishing this will drive the point home, so she could stop her ridiculous questioning of what should only be his business. He was taken off-guard when her gaze softened–it seemed as if she no longer wanted to argue with him. Although, he knew she wasn’t done yet with this conversation.

Reiner remained silent, waiting for her to say something to him but, she just sighed softly.

“What?” He said, puzzled at her reaction.

“It’s just...” she began, seeming suddenly unsure of how to choose her next words, which was quite unusual from her. They have been friends for so long; he was used to her being blunt and quite forward, and she had grown accustomed to the same from his part. Reiner cocked his eyebrow as if to urge her to just say whatever she’s trying to be so delicate about.

“This... isn’t your style. This isn’t _you_.” She finally uttered, her shoulders slumping and Reiner had already an inkling as to where she was going with this. He fought the urge to just skip past her and leave for his date but, he knew that if he didn’t let her get it off her chest, they would have this discussion another time and frankly, he wasn’t willing to broach this subject again with her, or anyone else. 

“You’re not really the kind of guy to go for a quickie with a stranger in a battered motel before they put their rings back on and kick you out so that they can go back to their wives and kids and pretend that their life is immaculate.” She flung her hands upwards desperately, “you’re romance guy! You’re the guy who’d write a fucking poem to profess their eternal devotion for the man he’s fallen in love with, and who’d tear up if he got proposed to. You’re a sucker for sappy, mushy love stories and you being in one just... _makes so much sense_.”

“Poems and wedding vows are not the only way to experience love or enjoy oneself. It’s not the fifties anymore–I’m surprised I have to tell _you_ this of all people.” Reiner was incredulous at his roommate’s surprisingly narrow-minded thinking.

“I know, and I’m not trying to be sex-negative or anything. I’ve had my fair share of one-night stands at college parties or after a couple of beers at a bar, even if they didn’t always end up with me feeling great about myself but I know, it’s one way to have fun and it’s _fine_.” She argued back, seemingly irritated at him for not getting her point. She closed her eyes, and shook her head as if she disapproved of a certain thought that crossed her mind. Reiner watched warilybas she took a deep a breath, looking like she’s trying to be tactful again but deciding to throw caution to the wind with her next words.

“It’s just the way you’re treated in this. The way _you_ treat _yourself._ It's...it’s not good.” 

“I do feel good, obviously. It's _sex_ , it actually feels _fucking amazing_ , even with a straight guy.” Reiner couldn’t help but furrow his brows at her. She really wasn’t making any sense.

“Well, you don’t really look it. You don’t look like you had a great time.”

“Well, I'm sorry you didn’t catch me while I'm basking in the afterglow, because I didn’t think it was a requirement for you to approve of my sex life.” Reiner was really growing irritated at his roommate and wondered again why he was still having this conversation with her.

“Reiner, no. You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” She said softly, and he was promptly reminded by his mother’s tone when he was a kid and she was trying to teach him something about how life should or shouldn’t be. ‘’I just don’t understand what you’re getting out of this. They cheat on their wives and girlfriends with a younger guy and lie about how they're straight–”

“Just because it’s the fucking twenty first century doesn’t mean it’s any easier to be open about one’s sexuality.” Reiner interrupted, in a dangerously low voice.

“I know, Reiner. Trust me, I do know. It did take me _years_ to come out as pansexual.” She held her hands in a placating gesture, “I just think it’s unfair to you. I love you and all I want is for you to feel loved and respected. I really don’t think that the way those men just need to type a _"_ _you’re smoking hot”_ before you jump into the first cab and crawl into their beds, is any fair to you.” She added, a pleading look on her face that he rarely had seen her express, “It’s just not what you deserve.” She finished, and just like that, he lost all will to carry on with their argument.

Instead, he walked to her with steady steps and looked down at her. He knew she cared so much about him, and he knew he’d do the same for her if he ever felt she was going to be hurt. He smiled faintly at her and was relieved to see her return his smile, albeit reluctantly. He chuckled lightly before bending to her level and engulfing her in a gentle embrace.

“Thank you.” He murmured in her hair, feeling her relax in his embrace. “But I’ll be okay.”

He pulled back and placed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a few seconds as he heard her sigh in content. She opened her eyes, looking resigned with his decision.

“Be careful.” She whispered in a gentle voice.

“I will.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Noted.”

“And most of all; have fun.” She finished with a smirk and Reiner felt his spirits lift when seeing her back to her usual, mischievous self.

“You got it, chief.” He said, raising his hand in mock-salute, to which she shook her head, a smile still plastered on her face.

He turned on his heels and walked for the coat rack before grabbing his leather jacket. He knew it would be quite chilly at this time of the night even though it was summer.

“Will you be back in the morning?” Pieck asked, as she went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine; a necessary beverage to get her through her students’ essays about Shakespeare like she had mentioned earlier.

“Uh, depends,” he said as he shrugged on his jacket, “on how sweet he is.”

“Tolerable you mean.” He heard her mutter.

“Same thing.” He checked his phone and saw that the Uber he had called was already in front of their building. He fumbled with the laces of his boots and gave himself a once-over in his bedroom’s mirror, before turning the light’s off and deciding it was time to head outside.

“Reiner, wait!” Pieck suddenly called out from her spot by the couch as soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob. She stood up quickly and practically ran to her bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, checking his phone again. He was really going to be late.

“Condoms.” He heard her rummage through her drawers.

“See you later, Pieck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Pieck is an English middle school teacher who has no patience for teenagers butchering classic literature.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your responses to the story! Now, for this chapter I decided I needed to add more tags and a few warnings. As the story progresses, more tags will be added so please check ahead before reading a new update.  
> I also need to point out that this chapter has quite a dark tone to it and mentions of past physical assault.

**Reiner**

_Brownie0801: promise ur not an ax murderer lol_

_Daddyontop1975: haha promise_

Feeling an involuntary smile pull at the corners of his lips, Reiner locked his phone and shoved it back in his jeans' pocket before he straightened up. He's been standing in front of his date’s motel room for five minutes now and even though this wasn’t even his first time, he couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. He always did feel a bit wary before every encounter, and sometimes, he was right to be. Granted, he didn’t run into any deranged ones so far and he hoped he never would but, if he has ever learnt anything from his experiences, is that in one way or another, they were all the same.

They already had the same profile to begin with; Cis, white, married or in a long-term relationship, and always, _always-_

_“I’m like...a hundred percent straight”_

An obvious, blatant lie that Reiner never found it in his heart to point out. Who was he to judge anyone for anything, anyway? 

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to focus on the feeling of the night's crisp air on his face. He breathed in and breathed out for a minute, in an attempt to will his racing heart to beat at a normal rate. The moment he felt more composed, he blinked his eyes open and took steady, assured steps towards the door, then raised his hand before knocking twice. He heard shuffling from inside and a minute later, the door was swung open and Reiner took in the sight in front of him. A tall, broad-shouldered man with some grays in his sandy blond hair was stood in front of him. He was seemingly in the beginning of his forties, so definitely was quite older for him but, it didn't matter–Reiner has never been picky about their ages anyway. The guy wore a serene smile on his face as he looked up at Reiner, who was at least three inches taller than him. Reiner knew then that his date liked what he saw.

Everyone did as soon as they saw his firmly toned body and took in his boyish grin.

When he was younger, Reiner was quite popular among the girls but, unfortunately for them, a woman’s charm did nothing to him.. So he spared them the embarrassment of finding that out the hard way, by declining politely every time they asked him out. However, by the time he reached sixteen, Reiner had gotten a little bold–he could hear Pieck's voice in his head correcting him by saying that _slutty_ was a more appropriate word and frankly, he didn’t mind either and he would disagree with anyone who'd say that there was anything wrong with it–and started exploring his sexuality more. Having lived his childhood and teenage years in a conservative town where one couldn’t really be open about who they were, Reiner found it easier to sneak around his mother to be with other men. Everyone knew that those sorts of relationships would lead nowhere so, he was fine with the arrangement he had at that time.

He got to enjoy himself, no strings attached. He had only had to meet them once–somewhere away from prying eyes, even if that sometimes required of him to leave his town for a couple of hours and lie to his mum that he would be spending the night with a classmate to prepare for a school project–and never see them again afterwards. Most of them never gave him a reason to call again anyway. He would never tell Pieck this but, he didn’t always end up having a great time after those encounters like one would've expected him to. The sex wasn’t always bad but, it wasn’t great either. And yet, that wasn’t really the reason that put him off of wanting anything more after his hook-ups. 

“Come on in.” Reiner was jolted from his thoughts by the guy’s invitation, and he felt himself blush for standing like that for god knows how long, daydreaming about his younger years. The man smiled at him nonetheless, seemingly amused at him getting flustered and Reiner felt himself relax in his presence. He seemed nice–gentle even–and there haven’t been many like him before. One of the reasons Reiner didn’t bother with them after having gotten what they wanted from each other.

Reiner nodded in response, his blush fading to a light pink, before crossing the threshold. 

“I promised Champagne,” the man said as he poured them both a drink “so, here you go.” He offered him a glass, but Reiner shook his head. 

“I don’t drink.” He said quickly, at which the man raised an eyebrow. 

“How old are you?” He questioned, and seemed like he was reconsidering his plans for the night in case Reiner’s answer wouldn’t be convenient for him.

“Twenty-six.” Reiner answered in earnest, smiling coyly. 

“Really?" He took a sip from his glass as he locked his gaze upon him, an unmistakable glint in his eyes "You don’t look it.” He said, failing to hide the surprise from his statement. Reiner could see his tense posture relax the moment he became certain he wouldn't be in any legal trouble. 

“Thank you.” Reiner said smugly, earning himself a chuckle from the handsome man in front of him. Yes, he did like this guy, despite his ridiculous username. He felt almost remorseful of the nature of their date as he gazed at his wedding band, dreaming for a fraction of second of how nice it would've been if he could see him again after this. 

It was one of the drawbacks of these kinds of arrangements. Reiner has long since made peace with not being able to have anything more after parting ways with them. During his escapades, he met all kinds of men; sweet men, rough men, weird men and definitely an aggressive one among all of those. He could still vividly remember the way he pinned him to the bed as soon as Reiner took off his shirt, hand enclosing around his throat without warning in a vice grip. Given his above average physical strength, he was able to knee the guy in the stomach before things got out of control. Despite being crippled with fear, Reiner almost laughed then at his distraught face as he sputtered an apology. 

_“I’m sorry, I just... I thought you **liked** that–” _

_“Why the fuck would I like that?”_ He had spat angrily then, wincing as his voice came out hoarse. 

The guy didn’t know what to reply to that back then but, Reiner knew what he thought–what most of them actually thought of him. Yet, Reiner never relented in making it clear that he was no one’s fucking prostitute, whom they assumed they can kick to the curb the moment they’ve done whatever they wanted to. That guy was no exception and he told him so before storming off from the room. 

It took an insane amount of concealer that a seething Pieck applied vigorously to his neck to hide his bruises for the next two weeks, each day coming up with a new argument in a desperate attempt to convince him to press charges for assault. Which he didn’t end up doing despite the temptation–he had as much to lose as that guy did, his own mother being at the very top of that list. 

He watched as the man took small sips from his drink, seemingly not finding it as entertaining to be drinking alone, and Reiner had half a heart to ask for his own glass back. He stopped himself from doing so, because contrary to what Pieck seemed to assume of his actions being the mirror of hers when she was in college, he never did this drunk. He never told Pieck why it was important to him to be sober in those moments, because she wouldn’t understand what this even meant to him in the first place. 

Reiner saw the man put down his half-finished glass on the bedside table before he moved slowly to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood in front of him, silent for a few minutes which for Reiner felt like hours, gazing down at him as if lost in some distant memory. He could feel butterflies doing somersaults in the pit of his stomach as the man reached with a gentle hand to stroke his cheek. Despite Reiner’s usual self-control, he couldn’t resist leaning a bit into the soothing touch. He closed his eyes as the man’s hand continued its tender caress, moving from his cheekbone to the nape of his neck. Reiner wished he could freeze this exact moment, and seal its memory in his brain for the rest of his life. 

Pieck would never really understand him, despite her voicing on numerous occasions how much she wished he could let her in and explain to her what he was really getting out of this. 

It wasn’t the sex that he really wanted from all of this–it was everything that led to it. These moments of tenderness where he truly felt loved and seen were what he had always sought from these short encounters. He knew that if he ever told this to anyone else, they would frown upon his conviction that old motels and lying, cheating husbands were the only way he could truly experience love.

New York was a huge city, where millions of different people lived. No one would’ve batted an eyelid if they saw two guys holding hands while walking down its streets. For Pieck, and for everyone else, him finding a loving, emotionally available boyfriend was the safest bet for him but, he had to disagree. 

Reiner simply didn’t want the emotional luggage that came with being in a relationship. He wanted to be loved without getting hurt and he learnt the hard way that thinking that he could have both of those things at the same time was only wishful thinking. 

Contrary to what everyone thought of his lifestyle, he was safer here even when he'd end up with a bruise on his neck. 

He opened his eyes as soon as he felt the hand caressing his face retreating and watched as the man turned his back to him, before he started shrugging off his clothes. 

It didn’t matter if those sweet moments were short-lived, Reiner thought as he proceeded to take off his own clothes, he'd value them no matter what’d happen afterwards.

Almost every time, Reiner could predict what would follow those most desired, healing touches. It looked like tonight would be one of those times, again, because the moment that sweet man stood in front of him clutching tightly a condom’s package in his hand, Reiner knew that those soft caresses would be the only affection he would ever show him. 

He took a deep breath as the guy pushed him slowly on his back, before proceeding to turn him roughly on his stomach. He rarely did it while facing his dates. This too was something he could predict, because he knew what those men wanted the moment they’d set eyes on him. He was a tall, strongly-built man that most would find intimidating and would think twice before trying anything funny with him. So, that’s how straight men with internalized homophobia got off–by having a guy like him face pushed down into a mattress underneath them. It was the only way they could make peace with who they were, as fucked-up as that was. This guy, as kind and gentle as he seemed to be a few moments ago, was no different. 

However, as predictable as this guy has been, Reiner would still admit that he was taken off-guard when the man yanked his head back and reached with his hand for his mouth, asking him to spit.

_Spit as lube. Really fucking classy._

Reiner has long learned that if he ever wanted something, he had to compromise. His desire for affection and love was no exception to that rule. However, those kinds of nights have taught him how to protect himself from whatever could possibly break him. He only needed to pretend that it wasn’t him that was pinned down into that creaking bed, that his body was no longer his so, whatever was happening to it wasn't happening to him. 

He would no longer then feel the blood trickling down his lips, before dripping into the white sheets beneath him–a small distraction to keep him from feeling or thinking for the next minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guy Reiner meets here is by no means Erwin Smith. Sneaking around his husband Levi to screw younger men is definitely not his style.
> 
> As for the story's future updates, I'm going to try to stick to posting a new chapter every Tuesday and Saturday. This schedule would most likely benefit me and you guys so it could give you the time to catch up with the story. If I get a bit ahead with my writing, I might even throw a bonus chapter on Thursday so keep your eyes peeled! 
> 
> Also, I feel like I need to mention this since we're still at the beginning of the story but, this story is a slow burn. A very, _very_ slow burn so it might take a few more chapters for it to get started so bear with me here. I hope you'll enjoy the ride because I love writing my babies! 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated and I promise I'm nice!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had two productive days of writing so I decided I could drop a bonus chapter. I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

**Pieck**

“Tobias” 

“Here.” 

“Mohamed” 

“Here Miss.” 

“Elizabeth Anne.” 

“Here.” 

“Right,” Pieck mumbled as soon as she was finished with the morning roll call and placed the year-seven names’ list in the far end of her desk, before she pulled her lesson sheets out of her satchel bag. 

“Alright, everyone! Today, we’re going to continue where we left off last week with Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter five–Mary Bennett...” She skimmed through her copy to the required page “Udo?” she searched for the thirteen-year-old boy in question, before she spotted him on the far end of the classroom, “would you please read for us?" She asked in a gentle tone, smiling encouragingly. 

Udo was a smart but, very timid boy, whose parents have confided in her at the beginning of the school year about his reluctance when it came to speaking in front of an audience. Pieck asked then, with a bit of hesitation, if their child had social anxiety. She wasn’t surprised when his father firmly shook his head in response, before providing her with a curt “no.” Pieck didn’t miss the way his wife’s mouth opened momentarily, as if to contradict her husband’s statement, but refraining from doing so upon seeing the change in his demeanor at the sensitive subject. Pieck decided then that she didn’t need to have an exact diagnosis to know that she had to educate herself on how to provide a safe learning experience for her student. That included her making sure to mention to him beforehand each time she intended for him to read in front of the whole class, and check whether or not he would be alright with it. She was relieved to see him responding gradually, but surely, to her encouragements and so, such situations didn’t end up with him feeling overwhelmed as often as it did during the very first weeks. 

She nodded gently to the young boy as he held his own textbook with slightly trembling hands, assuring him in the process that it was okay to take his time. He tried to breath normally for a few minutes before beginning to read in a steady voice. 

_"Pride...is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read..._ _”_

As Pieck heard the familiar passage that she had already memorized by heart after having taught it to multiple classes throughout the last two years, Pieck allowed her mind to wander a little bit. 

It was still the beginning of the week but, she was feeling oddly tired. She didn’t remember doing anything during her weekend that would be considered physically exhausting. As a matter of fact, she would consider it a pretty chill weekend, seeing as she had spent most of it snuggled in front of the TV, a mug of hot cocoa clutched in her hands. She’d been done with her markings earlier than expected on Saturday, the wine she had had that evening relaxing her enough, so she didn’t end up sending the pile of sheets flying each time she had to correct a quote or fill a sentence with a missing preposition–a habit she realized that most of her students shared and that even after a whole semester, they showed no intention of fixing. Her night only got better afterwards, or at least she hoped it would at the time, when Reiner came back home earlier from his... date. 

_“You’re...back,”_ she had said, barely concealing the questioning tone from her remark. _“You’ve barely been gone for two hours.”_

Reiner had been silent for a few moments as he had proceeded to shrug off his jacket and peeling off his boots, each of the pair hitting the wall with a loud thud–something that Reiner would never usually do, as he was the most organized between them both. That observation alone had made her feel wary then, her mind instantlly taking her back to that time he had come back home, an angry bruise on his neck, his face contorted with hot rage. Her eyes had instinctively gone to his neck before she felt relief wash over her when she noted the absence of any marks on his pale skin. However, she couldn’t help but feel worried that something awful had happened. She was briefly reassured when Reiner turned to look back at her, a smile plastered on his face. 

“Did you eat?” He had asked her before walking to the kitchen, without even waiting for her answer. Seconds later, she heard him pull the fridge open. 

It had taken her herculean, mental efforts to not comment on how utterly rude his date was if he didn’t bother to take him out for dinner, or at least, offer him anything for the sake of being courteous but, she had a feeling that her catty observation wouldn’t be well-received. 

“Yeah, I had tofu Chow Mein. I’ve put the leftovers in a Tupperware and left it to cool on the countertop.” She had told him instead and soon after, she heard the sound of the container popping open, followed by the sound of rummaging through the kitchen’s drawers for clean utensils. 

Reiner had soon reappeared by her side, a carton plate in his hand and a glass of wine held in his other. He plopped down unceremoniously on the couch by her side, cursing under his breath when he spilled a bit of wine on his jeans. 

They had stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard having been of chewing, and the show that Pieck had been trying to focus on, albeit to no avail. How could she, when her racing thoughts all revolved around her friend’s evening, and the reason for which he was adamantly refusing to talk about it. 

Reiner had long been done with his dinner, the clinking of his fork on the wooden coffee table jarring her from her anguished thoughts. She chanced a side glance his way and watched as he sunk back into the cushions, still nursing his half-finished glass of wine in his hand, swirling the liquid while he stared at the screen in front of him without any apparent interest. 

Pieck had dragged her gaze back to the show playing on their TV, fruitlessly trying to remember the prior events that led to the main character covered in blood, before she decided that watching any further was of no use, not with her current state of mind. She debated whether or not she should turn off the TV, so that she could have a heart-to-heart discussion with her unusually silent roommate despite the explicitly gory events happening in front of him. Eventually, she decided that the background noise would serve as a good distraction, in case the conversation went south. 

She had wanted so badly to ask him to give her every detail of his evening–not the salacious ones, despite the temptation–but those that confirm or infirm to her whether or not something, _anything,_ bad had happened. She realized then that she’d been in a constant state of anxiety ever since she and Reiner had moved to New York, and especially every time he went to meet a guy.

She knew he could well take care of himself–anyone would think that as soon as they looked at him but, something about the whole affair unsettled her. She could never know how truly safe he was and, whenever she was sitting idle in their apartment while he was out, she often found herself trying her hardest to not pick up her phone and call him, just to make sure he was okay. In fact, she even asked him once to text her as soon as he made it to his destination then on his way back home, to which he stared at her incredulously as if she’d grown a second head. He asked her then if he should start calling her “mom” too. 

_“Come on, it’s New York and not really safe out there.”_ _She rolled her eyes in exasperation then, wishing that he wouldn’t question her any further and just indulge her with that single request._

_“Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should start texting me too every time you went to see a guy.”_

_“It’s not the same and you know it!” She had almost shouted then, at which he raised an eyebrow._

_“Is it though?”_

He knew she didn’t have a valid answer to his question.

_“No one's actually safe, no matter who they were."_

He had told her and back then, she somehow found it possible to believe it. But, that had been before the deranged guy who nearly choked him. 

A quick glance at the time had made her realize that he would soon retreat to his bedroom, since he had to keep a regular sleeping schedule whenever he didn’t have to work at the bar. So, she decided that it was then her chance to broach the dreaded subject. 

“Champagne and wine in only two hours? I don’t think it would be worth tomorrow’s headache.” Pieck had known that if she wasn’t subtle about her approach, he would immediately shut off completely, and in the worst-case scenario, it would turn into a fight. Reiner was a very kind, sweet man but, even after knowing him for longer than ten years, she was often taken off-guard by how fast sometimes his mood seemed to sour. 

Reiner had jumped up a little at her question as if he had forgotten about her existence altogether for the last twenty minutes. He hadquickly composed himself though.

He had brought his glass to his lips and took a long sip, as if stalling.

“Well, it was cheap champagne and you know that there’s one motto I’ve always lived my life by–only the best or go without.” He had said after a while in a faux-nonchalant tone. 

“Special employer discount could come in handy in more than one occasion.” She had tried to lighten the mood, and had been promptly disappointed to see that it had no effect whatsoever. 

“You know you got the best deal from it.” He chuckled lightly, without humor. Something had been really off, and Pieck had needed to get to the bottom of it. 

“So... how was it?” She had started, opting to be vague about it and hoping that he would make it easier for her. 

“How was what?” 

“Your date? You haven’t been exactly talkative ever since you stepped inside and I must admit; you got me a bit worried because, Reiner Braun is everything but a quiet man.” She tried to keep her tone playful. A fruitless effort by the looks of it. 

“Pieck, you know I would never give you any sex-related details. You have the internet for that, and most of the time, it's for free. Although, make sure to lock your bedroom and preferably wait until I'm not home. And whatever you do, don't go into pornhub. Aside from uploading porn often without all the parties full consent, their policy about underage sex tapes is also very questionable.” 

“Reiner,” she had said quietly, feeling that every patience she possibly had for the last thirty minutes had dried up, “please.” 

He had gone quiet for a few moments and, Pieck had felt her stomach twist into knots as the silence grew heavier.

 _Something did happen after all, right, Reiner?_

He had sighed softly before turning to look at her, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I realized I forgot my Lithium so, I couldn’t stay the night.” A lie. A very blatant yet, clever lie. He knew exactly what she wanted to hear, but he knew that this particular lie would also reassure her that he was taking his mental health seriously. 

“Promise?” She had whispered, despite knowing that his answer would mean nothing to her. 

“Promise.” 

Reflecting back on that discussion made Pieck realize how much her friend’s behavior made her feel emotionally and, as a consequence, physically drained. 

Reiner had retreated to his bedroom as soon as the episode they’ve been watching ended, muttering a weak 'goodnight' on his way. However, whatever way he was feeling that night seemed to vanish by the next morning, when Pieck woke up to the smell of pancakes and to the sound of Reiner’s soft humming of some tunes she didn't recognize. She even wondered if she had simply dreamed the previous night’s events as she took a bite from her breakfast, facing a very cheerful looking Reiner. He was giddy from excitement while he awaited her reaction. She couldn’t help a smile of her own when she saw him grinning even wider the moment she hummed in delight at the heavenly tasting food. 

Pieck still thought that there was nothing she could’ve really done, despite her brain continuously nagging at her ever since that she should’ve shook him by the shoulders until he told her the truth. But, having known Reiner for so long, she knew that he would’ve done so had he felt that she needed him to know anything. 

The rest of her day went in a blur as she operated on autopilot, explaining for multiples classes what should be interpreted from Mary’s speech, and from what looked like mere definitions of what pride and vanity were. What started once as a passionate and meticulous analysis at the beginning of the morning, ended up sounding rehearsed and uncharacteristically soulless to her ears with her last class for the day.

She didn’t care much by the time the clock struck four in the afternoon, and she doubted her pupils did, if the vigor with which they stormed off from the classroom the moment they heard the school bell’s ring was any proof of how invested they had been in classic literature. She would remind them next time that they could only leave when she’d tell them that class was dismissed. 

\------------

Pieck stepped outside her school’s building, pulling her coat tighter around herself as a gust of wind whipped at her face and tossed her long, dark locks into the air. She decided to make a stop at the café nearby for a cup of coffee, as the cold weather made her long for anything to warm her insides before she headed home. 

As she made her way inside, faintly registering the sound of the bell ringing softly above her head, she practically ran towards the cashier so she could order her drink. 

_“Pieck!"_

She heard someone call her name, and she knew that it wasn’t the barista making her coffee. She felt a smile tug at her lips and turned around to look at the man she knew the voice belonged to. 

“Pock.” She said, giggling as he rolled his eyes in faux-exasperation, having given up long ago on correcting her about his name, but never failing to show that he really disliked the nickname she’s only ever called him by. 

“I was going to text you.” He said sheepishly, as he rubbed at his neck–a nervous gesture she’s long come to associate with him. 

“What are you doing here? This is far from where you work.” She asked, genuinely puzzled. 

“Well, like I said, I _was_ going to text you, because you see, there's someone–” 

“Pieck!” A voice behind him interrupted, and Pieck felt her mouth fall open the moment her eyes landed on the person smiling warmly at her. 

“Bertholdt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiner having a bipolar disorder-- and thus, taking Lithium as a mood stabilizer-- isn't my interpretation of his mental illness in canon. I simply thought that bipolar characters were way less common in fiction and mainstream media or at least from what I've read and watched so far. I've studied Psychiatry when I was in med-school but, I'm no expert when it comes to bipolar disorder or any other mental illness. Anything I've written is and will be the result of my own experience during my internship and my own medical knowledge so, I'm open to criticism. 
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Let me know in the comments down below!  
> Also, I'm always happy to chat so you should check me out on [Tumblr](https://whiteasy.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/blahoftheblah/) . I promise I'm nice and I'd love talk about this fic or anything else xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New update as promised! Enjoy xx

** Porco**

Porco groaned loudly when he heard his alarm blaring through the morning. He reached blindly for his phone, knocking a few items off the bedside table in the process, and tapped at the 'snooze' icon. He dozed off for ten more minutes, during which he had a nightmare that ended with him being late to work. He sat bolt upright in bed at the second ring of the alarm, heart racing wildly and briefly confused by his surroundings. After he regained a modicum of composure when he took in the familiar environment of his bedroom, he clambered off the bed and stretched for a few seconds in an attempt to shake the sleep off from his body. Feeling more awake, he headed straight to the bathroom and got on with his usual morning routine. He was aware that his took him more time than the average guy but, Porco couldn’t care in the least. He took taking care of his strawberry blond hair very seriously, thank you very much, and if he ever forgot for once to put on sunscreen on his pale skin, he would suffer the consequences with red patches strewn all over his sunburnt face. 

Feeling satisfied with the final results, he staggered with heavy feet to the kitchen, still feeling exhausted from the lack of caffeine that his body predictably grew addicted to throughout the years. He filled the coffeemaker with water before he clicked on the starting button, the three-year-old device coming into life. He leaned back on the countertop, hissing lightly as soon as the cold marble made contact with the small of his bare back. Seconds later, the gurgling of the machine filled the otherwise silent apartment. Porco closed his eyes, focusing on the familiar white noise, and he felt himself momentarily lulled to sleep. 

He jolted upright from his position and cursed under his breath as he heard the sound of his phone ringing loudly from his bedroom. He quickly walked to his bedroom, wondering who would be calling him at six in the morning. He rolled his eyes as soon as he saw the picture of his mother displayed on the screen, and debated for half a minute whether or not he should take the video call. He sighed in exasperation as he decided to indulge her, mostly because he knew he would never hear the end of it if he decided to not pick up. Bracing himself for what was to come, he slid the green icon upward and adjusted his phone while waiting for his mother’s side to connect. He was greeted by the sight of her after a few seconds of waiting, holding her phone at an awkward angle like she was often prone to do. 

“Hey, ma.” Porco began, his voice hoarse in the early morning. 

“Love, what’s wrong with your face? You look terrible!”

 _Here we go_

“Uh, it’s my face–I was born like this, remember?” He retorted in a sarcastic tone. 

“Don’t use that tone with me, Pock! You know damn well what I’m talking about! Have you not been sleeping lately? I told you not to stay up late but, you _never_ listen!” Porco often wondered if his mother would ever learn to be a little bit more delicate. The years only proved to him that that was wishful thinking. 

“It’s six in the morning and I’ve just woken up. I’ve barely had the time to have breakfast.” He sighed again, noting the absence of the coffeemaker’s noise. He felt his spirits lift at the prospect of finally drinking coffee, suddenly not minding as much his mother’s relentless interrogation. 

He practically ran to the kitchen, faintly registering his mother’s complaining at his eating habits or rather, its lack thereof. 

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and you can’t just drink coffee and pass it for one! Don’t you have anything to eat?” She asked while he was pouring himself a cup, the heavenly smell tickling his nostrils. He would’ve had a cigarette had he not been on video call. He needn’t give his mother more reason to pick at his lifestyle. 

“I’ll have a muffin from the office’s cafeteria later.” He said in hopes of placating her - a fruitless attempt by the looks of it. 

“There it is; that nasty habit of eating streets’ food that you know how much I disapprove of. Being among those New Yorkers is rubbing off on you and not in a good way. When you were in Skerries, you never left for school before you had a hearty meal in your belly. Of course, that was because I woke up at five _every morning_ to make sure that my son was well fed.” She reminisced, her voice growing distant. Despite her reproach, Porco felt a rush of affection for his mother. 

“Well, I’m not in Skerries now and I’m definitely not in school anymore–Ma, I'm _twenty-five_ and I think I can take care of myself. You don't have to worry about me.” He tried to reassure her and, Porco noted with slight annoyance that he was already feeling irritated at not having smoked his morning cigarette yet. This phone call or rather, row of nitpicking at everything he said or did was getting on his nerves. 

“Oh yes, I can very much see that. No wonder then that you’re so thin and had yet to grow past five feet six.” 

“Five feet **_s_** ** _ **ev** en. _**And I can assure you that men over the age of eighteen don’t grown any bigger after a while.” He didn’t feel like correcting her on the 'thin' part because, it made him feel a bit better about his newly-formed beer stomach. Damn Reiner and Pieck– _especially_ Pieck _–_ for their weekly, sometimes even twice a week, commutes to the bar. Reiner had been more careful with his drink since last year but, Pieck behaved as if she was still in college. Sometimes, he found it hard to believe that that woman was a teacher, with her being the least responsible between the three of them. 

“Same thing.” His mother dismissed with a wave of her hand “Look at your brother, Pock–” 

“ _Porco_ is the name you chose for me, if you could at least commit.” He remarked cattily, feeling his mood sour with every passing minute he spent talking to his mother. Plus, he didn’t feel like talking about Marcel. He knew what direction their conversation would take if she decided to bring his older brother into this. 

“He’s leading a very stable life working as a mechanic engineer which was his life–long dream, of course, and married to a beautiful, **Irish** girl with already a second son on the way and he’s only a _year_ older than you.” Yep, he knew that after taking multiple blows at his physique and lifestyle, his love life was the next subject she would broach. 

“Ma, I told you–" he began before his mother cut him short. 

“Is there someone? Your father and I decided to be open–minded about the whole business, so yes, we’re _fine_ with you bringing an American girl. I mean, we won’t be _thrilled_ that you wouldn’t marry from your own but, as long as you like each other, then we’ll be happy nonetheless.” She sighed dramatically before reiterating her earlier question, “anyway, are you seeing anyone at all?” She wanted to know, and Porco felt slightly guilty at how hopeful she looked. 

Porco stayed silent for a few seconds, realizing that he was only making his mother more anxious as she awaited his answer. Technically speaking, there was _someone_ but, it was complicated. Very complicated. He didn’t want to disappoint his mother by denying, again, the existence of anyone special in his life but, he’d only feel bad if he gave her false hopes. 

“I’ve been seeing some people here and there, but nothing serious yet.” He said finally, and he felt a pang of guilt when he saw disappointment wash over his mother’s face. 

“Well, it’s not really ideal but, you’re still young.” He was a bit taken–off guard by his mother being surprisingly nicer than expected about it. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for her being considerate, as rarely as that usually was. 

“Mm, again, twenty-five years old, not forty but, thanks ma.” He gave her one of his rare smiles as well, and felt himself relax when he saw her mirror his with one of her own. 

“Although, I have some ideas as to why that is. You see, American girls–" She was probably going to start on one of her passionate and, quite racist speeches to which he’d have to nod politely. Thankfully, a furtive glance at the time told him he should start getting ready for work. 

“Listen, ma. It's lovely talking to you, but I gotta go.” 

“Wait, Pock–"

“Talk to you later, ma. Love you!” 

He tapped at the red icon on his screen, mentally shuddering at the thought of her most likely getting mad at him for abruptly hanging up on her but, he would worry about it the next time she’d call. Who knows? She might even forget about his ill-manners, as unlikely as that was. 

One thing he was certain of, was that he needed to smoke. He went back to his room, and dressed up quickly for work. He shrugged on his brown leather jacket, and reached in his pocket to retrieve his cigarettes packet. He felt instantly calmer by its mere presence in his hand. He lit up one, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes before exhaling. It just felt so right, and he felt his earlier tension dissipate from his body the moment he felt the rush of nicotine coursing toward his brain. He felt that despite it being Monday, and one that started with an aggravating call from his mother, he was ready to seize the day. 

Porco wasn’t surprised that his improved mood didn’t last long after eight hours at the office. His boss made sure that it didn’t, with his ritualistic habit of shouting at anyone he was slightly dissatisfied with. Pieck called him a bully once, when he told her about his often unjust treatment of his employees. Reiner said that it was one con to being a salary man, but at least it paid the bills, and Porco couldn’t have agreed more. He had long since given up on his childhood dream of being a pilot, or at least for the time being, given that private training was not only difficult but also, expensive. He didn’t feel as proud as his parents seemed to be of his Business degree, but it got him a decent job in the corporate world. He did ease up into it and got used to wearing a suit at work but, he could never envision himself doing this sort of job for the rest of his productive years. Flying has always been his passion, and no matter how many years it took, he will one day get to do it. 

In the meantime, he'll have to put up with a bully of a boss, and having coffee accidentally spilled on his favorite jacket by a sputtering new intern as soon as he’d step into the office if he ever wished to make his dream come true. 

\----------- 

As soon as Porco stepped outside the company’s building, he relished in the feeling of the chilly, windy air of a February afternoon in New York. He stood there for a few seconds, enjoying the way the cold wind whipped at his face, as it reminded him of his childhood village in Ireland. He had moved to the states when he went to college, and although he liked living in New York, he couldn’t help but miss Dublin sometimes.

He could still vividly picture his younger days when he used to play by the beach with Marcel, their mother’s faint voice in the distance telling them to come back inside for tea and raspberry scones. The distant memory of his home warmed his heart despite the cold weather, and Porco made a mental note to visit his family as soon as he could instead of only going back once for Christmas.

He also missed Marcel terribly. 

Porco decided he was in too good of a mood to head home yet so, he decided to go for a walk instead of catching the next bus. He briefly debated whether he could even go out to eat something given that he had no groceries at home, but decided he’d feel even lonelier, the earlier memory of his childhood still vivid in his brain. 

He could go see Pieck though. She was probably done with teaching by now, and her school wasn’t that far from his workplace. 

He had a spring in his steps as he walked the familiar distance, feeling slightly giddy with excitement at the prospect of talking to someone other than his mother or his colleagues on such a stressful Monday.

He and Pieck have been close friends for the last six years ever since he moved to New York. She and Reiner had moved from their hometown in Idaho, and attended the same college that he went to. They’ve been close friends since then, even when they both were a year older than him. Despite having different jobs after they graduated, and Pieck and Reiner living together on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, they didn’t drift apart as it was often expected of college friendships. They still had their weekly meet-ups at the bar close to their apartment, where they’ve been regular customs for a few years now, and had their own booth specially reserved for them. Sometimes, they even went to the bar which Reiner worked at to have a few beers together. Granted, they weren’t as close as they used to be back in college and, more often than they cared to admit, real life and adulthood got in the way of their friendship. 

Other... _stuff_ had also made them once grow more distant but, he was glad that they moved past it and could now enjoy each other’s company without complications. 

Porco realized that Pieck’s workplace wasn’t much further now, having been distracted by his earlier thoughts, and decided to make a stop at the coffeeshop near school. He knew Pieck would greatly appreciate a freshly brewed cup of coffee after a day spent in the company of rowdy teenagers, so he decided to indulge her with her favorite cinnamon dolce latte. He stepped inside the café, relishing in the warmth it offered in contrast to the biting cold outside, as appreciated as it had been at first. He headed straight to the cashier to make his order. He unlocked his phone on his way so he could text Pieck and inform her he was nearby.

Porco stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the man stood in front of him, staring fixedly at the menu ahead. 

He knew that guy. Well, not know _know,_ since he’d only met him once during Reiner and Pieck’s graduation night when he flew to New York all the way from Idaho, but he had made a good impression back then. In fact, Porco liked the guy–he was nice, _really_ smart. Even if a little bit shy, he was quite fun when drunk. Pieck also knew him from when they were in high school, and he was Reiner’s childhood friend if his memory served him right. Porco wasn’t surprised when he immediately warmed up to the guy. 

Still, what was he doing here in New York? He remembered that Bertholdt still lived in Idaho, and even went to a university there. He was a... writer? He guessed he really had been too drunk, and perhaps even high if his memory of that night was this jumbled. Two things he was prone to be when he was in college, even more in the company of Pieck and Reiner back then. 

He jumped when he saw Bertholdt turn around. They both locked gaze for a fraction of a second then, and Porco briefly wondered if he’d even remember him after so many years now. He soon had an answer to that as recognition quickly flashed on Bertholdt’s eyes. 

“Galliard!” He said, seemingly pleased with running into him. 

_“Porco.”_ He corrected, a wide grin stretching on his face, “you get first names' privileges, don’t worry.” He strode toward the taller man before pulling him in a friendly hug. He chuckled softly when Bertholdt flailed his arms around for a few seconds, before returning his hug. _Awkward as ever_

Porco decided that he shouldn’t prolong the poor guy’s misery any longer, so he released him after a moment. 

“So, what are you doing here?” Porco asked. Did Pieck and Reiner know about this? They most likely did. Bertholdt must’ve been here to pay his oldest friends a visit then. 

“Uh, actually–” Bertholdt began, looking a bit unsure for a moment. Porco realized this wouldn’t be the sort of conversation to have while standing and upholding the ever-growing queue behind them. 

“Hold on a second.” Porco interrupted him before he turned back to the cashier and purchased their orders, ignoring Bertholdt’s protests to pay for his own. Then they shuggled toward a table by the window while they waited for their drinks. 

“So, you were saying?” Porco asked as soon as they were comfortable. 

“Well, I–I moved here.” Bertholdt explained and, Porco was convinced then that Pieck and Reiner simply forgot to mention this to him. This was big news so they definitely knew. They probably would’ve told him about it if he didn’t miss last Friday’s meet up at the bar. 

“Welcome to the most amazing city on earth.” Porco reached with his hand to pat his arm in a friendly gesture, “look, it might seem a bit overwhelming at first. I felt that way since I came from a small village in Ireland but look at me now; almost seven years later and it’s like I’ve been born here! "

“Yeah, the accent is almost gone.” Bertholdt chuckled and, Porco rolled his eyes in faux-exasperation. 

“Yeah, ma has often, and loudly, objected to me becoming more American than it was appropriate for an Irish man.” Porco snorted. 

“So, where do you live?” 

“Um, 8th Ave & 8th St Brooklyn. I got a nice apartment for a reasonable price.” Bertholdt replied, looking confused when Porco’s face broke into a grin.

“That's where I live!” Porco exclaimed enthusiastically, “’ll finally have someone else close by to hang out with instead of taking a whole hour to make it to Manhattan.” Porco said, relieved.

“What for?” Bertholdt looked genuinely puzzled. 

“Uh, that's where Reiner and Pieck live?” Porco frowned but before he could question it any further, he heard the barista call their names so Porco stood up, assuring Bertholdt in the process that he’ll bring in their orders himself. 

As he walked towards the counter for their drinks, Porco instinctively looked toward the glass door when the bell above chimed, revealing Pieck. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he took in her red-tinged cheeks, and her messy dark curls. 

“Pieck.” He called her name and felt his heart skip a beat when she turned around at the sound of his voice, mirroring his smile with one of her own upon spotting him. Although, she did seem surprised at his presence and Porco remembered then that he forgot to text her. 

“I was going to text you.” He said, and then immediately remembered the reason he forgot to. 

Bertholdt.

Did she know he would be here? Is that why she stopped by? He had to tell her anyway. It would surely be a pleasant surprise if it turned out that she didn’t know about his presence after all. 

“You see, there's someone–" before he could finish her eyes were drawn to a spot behind his shoulder. 

“Pieck!” Bertholdt called from behind him, leaving their table unoccupied and Porco almost snapped at him for it. He didn’t feel like drinking his coffee while standing, and the place was packed with customers. 

“Bertholdt.” Pieck breathed, and Porco was astonished at her shocked expression. She definitely didn’t know he would be here.Then, she also didn’t know that he moved here. Did Bertholdt mean for it to be a surprise? 

Bertholdt’s earlier nervousness seemed to dissipate upon seeing her, and his awkwardness around Porco seemed long forgotten, as he practically ran to her before he engulfed her in a tight hug, their height differences making them look comical. 

“Oh my God, I missed you so much.” Bertholdt mumbled in her hair, looking genuinely happy upon seeing her. 

“I missed you too.” Pieck said. Porco could tell she was confused about his presence. The whole thing just didn’t add up to him. 

He still felt his heart swell at the scene in front of him, feeling a surge of happiness at their reunion. He decided to give them a few moments to themselves so, he went to retrieve their beverages. 

He moved to sit at their table, glad that it hadn’t been taken by anyone yet and blew softly on his scalding hot espresso before taking a tentative sip. This was infinitely better than the stale coffee he got used to drink at his place. He wished this café was closer to _his_ workplace, so he could drink more of their exquisite brew. 

Pieck and Bertholdt joined him shortly after and reached for their respective beverages, Pieck thanking him sweetly and calling him a godsent. 

“Like I was saying, we should hang out soon.” Bertholdt said, humming in delight as he took a sip from his hot chocolate. 

“Yeah, totally–how about this Friday? Reiner has probably an evening shift, so we could hang out at the McGee's where he works?” Porco suggested, looking at Pieck for affirmation. An unreadable expression crossed her face. 

“Yeah...” She said in a smaller voice, as if hesitant, "we should.” 

“Fine by me! It’ll give me time to unpack and get my affairs in order.” Bertholdt replied, with a bit more glee than Porco was used from him. It seemed like Pieck’s strange behavior was rubbing off on him somehow. 

“By the way, um...” Bertholdt took a long sip from his drink, looking abruptly nervous, “how is he? Reiner, I mean.” He asked, his gaze latching on the wall behind Porco. These two were behaving oddly around him today, and Porco struggled to understand the reason behind it. 

“Well, aren’t you guys–” Porco began, a frown settling on his features at Bertholdt’s question before Pieck cut him short. 

“He’s fine, ” she replied quickly, “he’s... well.” 

“Good.” Bertholdt said, nodding to himself, and for a moment he seemed lost in thought. He grabbed his mug abruptly and knocked down its content in one go, Porco wincing as he thought of how it must've burnt his tongue. 

“I–It was, uh, nice to see you guys here but, I–I really got to go. You know, just moved in, a lot to unpack.” He rambled on before he stood up, suddenly looking like he wanted to be as far away from them as possible, before he bent down to hug Pieck by his side. 

“I’ll text you my address, Porco–here, my number.” He reached into his pocket before he pulled out his phone. 

“It’s the same number, right, Bertholdt?” Pieck asked. 

“Um, no, I changed it years ago.” 

“Oh. I’ll have to change your contact ID then. Mine is still the same by the way.” She was quiet for a bit before she added, as if in an afterthought, “so is Reiner’s.” 

“Cool. Cool. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you. Both. So, Friday night?” He asked again, that nervousness from earlier returning to his voice. 

“You got it, man.” Porco smiled at him, feeling glad that this wouldn’t be the last time they would be seeing him. 

Despite the oddness of this encounter and Pieck’s unusual cheerlessness, he felt good about Bertholdt moving here. He couldn’t wait to get to know the guy more, and he felt joyous at not being as isolated as he had gotten used to in the last few years of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my boy Porco, so fucking much. It might explain why this chapter wound up so long but, I had fun writing it! 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! They really make my day xx

**Pieck**

“What was that just now?” Porco’s confused voice jarred Pieck from her thoughts. They've been walking side by side while snacking on chocolate croissants for the last half hour. She’d been very distracted by her earlier encounter with Bertholdt to pay attention to her surroundings. 

“What was what?” She said, offering Porco an apologetic smile for not having listened to what he’d been saying for the last two minutes or so. 

“Whatever earlier has been about–you were… weird.” Porco frowned, “a bit too quiet, compared to your usual self.” 

“Oh, a man complaining about a woman’s chattiness, how original. What’s next? Are you going to call me hysterical too?” Pieck retorted cattily, more in an attempt to deflect from the subject than for being offended. Porco wasn’t wrong in his assumption though. She did feel a bit put off by their earlier encounter with Bertholdt. 

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant.” Porco sighed before he added, “I mean... I guess I just assumed you’ve known about him moving to New York.” 

“No, I didn’t. I was as surprised as you were.” Pieck replied in earnest. 

“Yeah, I gathered as much. I thought you were good friends. I mean, you've _been_ really good friends back in Idaho from what you’ve told me. Did he want to surprise you with this, since he was so close to your workplace?” Porco asked, a frown settling on his features. 

“No, I really didn’t know about it.” Pieck shook her head, “in fact, I didn’t talk to Bertholdt in years.” 

“Because he changed his phone number? You could’ve gotten it from Reiner.” Porco shrugged, before he frowned again. It looked like he was finally piecing it together. 

“Hang on–he wasn’t talking to Reiner either, wasn’t he?” He asked her, looking genuinely puzzled. 

“I guess not–he did ask _us_ how he was doing after all.” Pieck replied, shaking her head in disbelief. She guessed she had a few more things to ask Reiner about, and she felt a headache already forming at the impending discussion she couldn't avoid even if she wanted to. 

“Yeah, come to think of it, he was really weird too, all nervous and sweating. I mean, I didn’t know him as well as you guys did but from what I remembered, it seemed like that was his normal state.” Porco sniggered, as if remembering an older incident with Bertholdt. Pieck would’ve pestered him about it had she not been distracted by whatever this news would mean for them all. 

“Yeah... he did.” 

“See!” Porco suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, and Pieck turned back to look at him, furrowing her brows in confusion at his sudden outburst, “you’re doing it again! You’re being **weird** –why?” He asked with so much fervency that Pieck was taken aback. She was the one prone to gossip so, this attitude coming from Porco threw her off a bit. She supposed he was only trying to make sure that his friends were alright. Although, she wasn’t the one he needed to worry about. 

“I’m not being weird, Pock.” She denied, and resumed walking again. Suddenly, she wanted to be home instead of having this conversation. 

“You are. You’re strangely tiptoeing around the subject. Did something happen between you guys and Bertholdt? You know something, don’t you?” 

It looked like Porco wasn’t going to relent anytime soon so, she had to give him something. She couldn’t risk him going to Reiner and spur all of this on him because, even though she loved Porco and got used to most of his quirks, he could be really tactless when it came to sensitive matters. She felt herself shudder at the thought of subjecting Reiner to such torture when he already had a lot on his plate. 

She looked up at Porco whom was staring down at her expectantly. She stayed silent for a few more seconds, gathering her thoughts before she exhaled. 

“OK, I’ll talk but _,_ you have to swear that you wouldn’t ever bring this up with Reiner.” She stated firmly, and she could see worry flash across Porco’s eyes. He gulped audibly before asking. 

“This seems quite serious. Why?” 

“No, you have to promise first Pock. I mean it.” Pieck reiterated firmly. 

“OK, fine. I, uh, I swear I won’t tell him anything.” Porco acquiesced. Feeling satisfied with his honest answer, she took a deep breath as she tried to choose her next words. 

“So, Reiner and Bertholdt have been friends–Like, _really_ close friends, ever since they were kids.” 

“Yeah, duh! I know that much, Pieck. That’s why I was surprised he wasn't talking to him. Because, I’ve seen them–they were practically brothers.” Porco stated matter of factly. 

“Yeah, about that...” Pieck began, before she fell silent again, as she struggled to find the right words to describe the nature of her oldest friends'… relationship. 

“True, they were really good friends but..."

“Come on, Pieck, you’re killing me!” He exclaimed in frustration. 

“Well, the truth _truth_ was that Reiner had a thing for Bertholdt.” She finished quickly, and Porco was speechless for a few minutes. 

“A thing.” He repeated dumbly after a while. 

“As in _feelings._ Of romantic nature _._ ” Pieck said, her voice subconsciously taking a teacher’s tone as they explained something really obvious for a kid.

“Wow.” He said after having processed the bit of information that Pieck finally agreed to share with him. Despite him pestering her earlier to just tell him what she knew, she could tell that he hadn't been ready for it. 

“I, uh, I didn’t expect that.” Porco said again, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. He was probably trying to recall whether or not there had been signs that they were more than what he presumed them to be. She was certain he was feeling foolish for calling them brothers earlier. 

“Wait, does that mean–" Porco started, and she knew what he was going to ask her next. 

“No, they weren’t anything more because, well, to put it simply, Bertholdt was–is–straight.” Pieck closed her eyes, feeling her stomach twist into knots as she thought back to the time Reiner confessed to her about his feelings for his childhood friend while he sobbed uncontrollably. She was so shaken at his unusual display of vulnerability that she was lost for words of comfort. 

“And by not putting it simply...” 

“He had feelings for another girl back in high school. It was an ongoing crush for some years, even before I transferred to their school. Actually, I think it went back as far as elementary school?

"So, Bertholdt rejected Reiner’s feelings because of her. Partly, because of her. The other the whole not being into guys–you get the whole picture.” _And none of that had gone well, at all_

“And Act Three Twist.” Porco said without humor. 

“To say that it’s complicated is just an understatement.” Pieck concurred in a solemn voice, and Porco nodded in agreement. They resumed their walking, feet suddenly heavy as they each were lost in their own thoughts. 

“Shit. Reiner really needs to do something about his odd fixation with straight guys. I’m sure there are lots of gay, bi, pan or simply non hetero ** _,_** nice _and_ single men who wouldn’t think twice before giving him their numbers.” Porco said after a while, shaking his head in disapproval. Pieck thought the same–Reiner was her friend but, she could objectively say that he was really handsome. He was very popular among the girls during high school and college before he came out. 

“I wish he would. We nearly fought about it last Saturday before he went to one of his, and I quote, dates."Pieck grumbled. Porco had made a snarky remark here and there about Reiner’s choice of hook-ups but, as far as she knew, he never tried to have a heart-to-heart discussion with him or at least try to listen. She couldn’t blame him; her roommate doesn’t open up about his own feelings as easily as she and Porco did. The thought of him feeling alone by shutting himself off saddened her. 

“You’d think it was merely a phase when he was in college, and that he would’ve grown out of it by now.” Porco reflected, clicking his tongue in disapproval. 

“It goes back to when he was in highschool. Hell, I’m sure it was even before he turned eighteen. He could’ve jeopardized his own future had he ended up on a sex-offender list along with those creeps.” Pieck supplied, “his mum would’ve disowned him.” 

“I just don’t get it. He really has a chance of being happy and leading a normal life. Is he worried of being out? This isn’t your small conservative town in Idaho if he’s even been paying attention.” Porco gestured to their surroundings, scoffing as he did. Pieck sincerely prayed that Porco would never say that to Reiner. She knew how he’d react since she beat Porco first to it. 

“I don’t know honestly and, I don’t think we can judge him for it."

“I hope that at least he had a good time. Not that I want to know about anything he does in private, unlike you.” Porco remarked in a sarcastic voice in an attempt to lighten to the mood. Pieck felt her heart sink in her boots as she remembered the way Reiner had looked afterwards. 

“About that...”

A pregnant pause. Pieck could tell that Porco was growing nervous the longer she kept quiet. 

“Did...” she saw his Adam apple bob up and down, “did something happen?” 

“No–" Pieck started, unsure of how to proceed. She really didn’t know after all, even if she strongly suspected that something did go wrong that night. 

“Did the guy get violent like that other time?” Porco interrupted her, mirroring the nervous expression that she must have had that night, when she was desperate for Reiner’s reassurance that he was alright. 

“No, I mean–"

“Well, how would _you_ know?” 

“I _don’t._ I mean, he looked physically fine but–" 

“That’s hardly any evidence! Fuck, do we need to call the police? I need to talk to Reiner about this.” Porco looked like he was just shy of panicking and frankly, Pieck had nothing to say to make him feel calmer. She wished Reiner could let them in, at least a little bit. 

“No, Pock, please. You know it never works with Reiner and with you both, it’ll only turn into a fight.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Porco looked offended but, Pieck didn’t have it in her to be mindful of his feelings. 

“You know _exactly_ what I mean. Just–” She closed her eyes, before raising her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. It was only the first day of the week and so much had happened already. She wished she could skip the conversation with Reiner, and draw herself a hot bath, so she could forget about all of their troubles. 

“Leave it to me. You’ve already done enough by inviting Bertholdt on Friday to Reiner’s working place.” She had to admit that she felt slightly better when she saw Porco look contrite. 

“I majorly fucked-up, didn’t I?” He said sheepishly. 

“You did, and it’s up to me to try and lessen the blow, because let me tell you–he will be mad that you did this behind his back.” 

''Fuck. I–I know I screwed-up. You can throw me under the bus, I’ll take it. I can even try to talk to him and I promise I won’t be, uh... blunt and basically an idiot.” Pieck appreciated that he was willing to smooth things over but, she knew it was better that she dealt with Reiner herself. She was the sensible one between her and Porco. Reiner would be grateful that she was the one to deliver such huge news. 

“Shit, thank you and I’m really sorry.” Porco seemed genuinely grateful and Pieck felt herself relax a bit. 

Pieck pushed on her tiptoes then pulled Porco in a hug, before they went their separate ways. She felt slightly tense about the impending discussion with Reiner but, Pieck allowed herself to look at the bright side of things. Granted, Reiner and Bertholdt had a complicated history but, she still felt happy about being close to one of her oldest friends again. Plus, Reiner might even have moved on. It's been more than seven years since so, she could be worrying herself sick over nothing. 

One thing Pieck knew for sure was that she would have her answers as soon as she made it home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand cat's out of the bag, or maybe just his tail? What did you guys think about this chapter?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Drum roll* It's a Reiner POV!

**Reiner**

Reiner sighed in relief as soon as his colleague, Cindy, appeared by his side, signaling the end of his afternoon shift at the bar. It was Monday and still five in the afternoon, so the place wasn’t as packed with patrons–something Reiner was grateful for, seeing as it definitely gave him less customers to tend to when he had a solo shift. Although, it came with the disadvantage of dealing with much needier ones who liked to think of him as their own therapist and yammer about their problems to him. Reiner usually thrived on being surrounded by people, but he wasn’t sure he could provide much when it came to helping other people with their issues. He wasn’t a bad friend or at least he liked to think so but, it was completely a different matter when it came to strangers.

It also took quite a toll on his mental health. Having to deal for a week on end with entitled, sometimes rude customers complaining to him about how utterly dissatisfied they were with their lives, Reiner often had to fight the urge to ask them to just look at him to feel better about themselves. He was a twenty-six-year old, single man who threw away his degree in Mathematics to be a waiter slash shrink for obnoxious clients who didn’t even tip as well as they ought to–definitely one of the drawbacks of not working evening shifts where patrons were drunker, thus more generous with their money–in a run-down bar in Manhattan for the last three years of his life. Cherry on top of the cake, Reiner thought bitterly, he was bipolar and that wasn’t very fun to deal with for the last twenty-six years of his life. That alone made this job even worse for his mental health, what with the way the evening shifts shambled his sleeping routine. Yet, it paid the bills and allowed him to afford his medications. 

Still, it didn’t make his job any more fun but, he guessed he should stop trying to view adulthood with pink-tinted glasses, especially when he decided to live in one of the most expensive cities in America. 

He was glad to change into his regular clothes again after eight hours spent running about in the stuffy place, with garments sticking to his sweaty skin. He threw his working outfit haphazardly into his locker before he excited the staff’s changing room. He bid Cindy goodbye, muttering a tired 'good luck' to which she smiled gratefully before he stepped outside. 

He must have dozed off for a bit during his ride home on the subway–one of Lithium’s side effects where he felt tired and drowsy most of the time–but, he was thankful for the short nap, feeling himself slightly more awake than he had been half an hour earlier. Perhaps he wouldn’t collapse immediately on his bed for a ten-hour sleep as soon as he’d put foot in his apartment like he usually did. He hoped Pieck wouldn’t have much work so, maybe he could cook them dinner and watch a movie together. He hadn’t been a pleasant company last weekend and, despite trying his best to make it up to her with his long since perfected chocolate chips pancakes, he still felt guilty for ruining her Saturday evening as she worried herself sick over him. He was really grateful for her friendship, even more so for her companionship and, he wanted to show her that more. 

\-----------

Reiner was glad to see that Pieck wasn’t home yet. She was a bit later than usual but, his roommate was good friends with almost all of her colleagues. She must've stayed to hang out with them or gone out to grab a coffee. So, he decided to start cooking before she was back. Coming home to a warm, homecooked meal after a long Monday spent in the company of hormonal teenagers would be a lovely surprise. He hoped it would properly convey how much he appreciated her for being there for him in all these years.

He walked hurriedly to the kitchen, scanning quickly their pantry as he thought about a dish he could whip up in the course of an hour or less. Deciding to go with Italian meatball pasta–Pieck's favorite–he grabbed a pan and turned the heat on. 

He was so lost in the preparations that he didn’t notice Pieck standing by the doorframe, having seemingly followed the smell of food that hit her as soon as she stepped inside their place. 

“Please tell me you’re making meatball pasta, because I’m in dire need of a warm meal made with love.” Pieck said from behind him and Reiner jumped in surprise, almost dropping the wooden spoon he’d been stirring the sauce with on the floor. 

“Pieck! You scared the living shit out of me!” He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest “How many times do I have to tell you–stop lurking!” 

“A few more times, most likely.” Pieck giggled before her face became serious again, “you didn’t answer my question!” 

“Yes, it’s your favorite dish by your favorite roommate in the whole world.” Reiner sing-sung and grinned as he saw her face lit up. 

“Oh, he damn well is the best in the multiverse.” She concurred, before closing the distance between them in a fluid movement and pulling him in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Careful! We’re by the fire.” He reprimanded her, yet still returning her embrace and briefly wondering how could a person of such small stature pack that much strength in their arms. 

She pulled back, offering him a sweet smile which he mirrored easily. He was truly grateful for her for putting up with him for so many years now and, he sincerely hoped she wouldn’t grow tired of him any time soon. 

“You seem in a good mood for someone who spent a good portion of his day pretending to care what drunken assholes were yapping about.” She remarked as she took a seat by the dining table. 

“Well, I feel... good. I guess?” Reiner said hesitantly. He always found it hard to talk about his feelings to others, even with Pieck whom had seen him in his lowest states. He found it even challenging to talk about having a positive emotion. It was almost as if he felt guilty anytime he felt genuinely happy. 

“Well, I’m happy for anyone who’s remotely doing well on such a cold and dreadful Monday.” She retorted in faux-seriousness. Pieck disappeared briefly into the hallway to grab her phone before she settled back in her seat and started mindlessly scrolling on whatever social media feed. 

“Dinner will be ready in ten.” 

“It’s OK, take your time. I had a chocolate croissant and a coffee with Pock earlier.” She replied absentmindedly and Reiner didn’t miss the way her lips quirked upwards at the mention of their best friend. 

She and Porco had been dancing around each other's feelings since they first met back in college, and it’s a wonder they still hadn’t figured it out yet. They were so nauseatingly in love and as sweet as it was most of the time, it could get annoying at moments. Unless someone spelled it out for them, he doubted the day where they would profess their love for each other would come any time sooner. 

“He went to see you? At school?” Reiner asked amused and he furrowed his brows as soon as he saw Pieck’s face fall at the question. 

“Um, we, uh... we ran into each other at the café nearby.” She sputtered, suddenly seeming even more interested in the screen in front of her than she had been earlier. Reiner cocked an eyebrow at his friend’s sudden nervousness but decided not to pry. Porco definitely went to see her deliberately since the company he works at was on the opposite side of Pieck’s workplace. Maybe something good did happen after all and she was just feeling shy about it? He’ll know about it in time when they’ll need him to, or he’ll figure it out by himself the next time he sees them together. 

They stayed silent for the next few minutes, the only sound that could be heard being of Reiner moving around the kitchen while he tried to ignore the way Pieck was squirming in her seat. 

Deeming that he couldn’t take it any longer, he decided to be straightforward. 

“OK, out with it.” He finally said, turning to look at her and he was even more confused as he saw her startled reaction. 

“Sorry?” 

“You’re hiding something, I can tell. You know you can’t keep something for me that long, Pieck.” He arched an eyebrow at her, as if challenging her to deny it. He noted the way her shoulders slumped as she conceded defeat. 

“OK, but can you promise me you won’t get mad at me or at Porco?” She asked sheepishly, and Reiner was even more puzzled at her question. Perhaps this wasn’t about his best friends’ long-awaited confession of love, because there would be no way he would’ve been mad at them for it. He would be over the moon if it ever happened. 

“Why? What happened?” He asked, feeling his stomach twist uncomfortably into knots, his mind suddenly running wild at every worst-case scenario his vivid imagination seemed to conjure in the matter of seconds. 

“You have to promise me first–” She begged him again but, Reiner was having none of it. 

“Pieck.” 

She sighed audibly, looking even more distressed at whatever she was going to tell him and Reiner almost snapped at her for not just getting it done and over with so he could properly relax or panic, depending on the situation. 

“Today, when I ran into Pock at the coffeeshop I actually ran into someone else too.” She began and Reiner felt even more befuddled. 

“Who?” 

She took a deep breath before she replied in earnest,

“Bertholdt.” 

Reiner felt that the air has been sucked from the entire apartment. He could feel his chest constrict around his ribcage and it was suddenly hard to breathe. 

“Reiner?” He snapped out of his stupor at her voice, and took notice of his surroundings again. He felt like the last thirty seconds had merely been a daydream, possibly a result of his own exhaustion. Perhaps he should’ve just headed straight to bed and slept until the morning after all. 

“What?” Reiner asked again, needing to make sure that he simply imagined Pieck uttering that name instead of whomever it was she ran into earlier. 

“Are you OK?” She seemed alarmed at his lack of response. She stood up from her seat and walked hesitantly to where he was stood by the stove. She reached for his arm, squeezing it in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. It would’ve been greatly welcome if he wasn’t feeling numb. 

“Yeah,” he said after a while, shaking his head before chuckling lightly, “sorry. Yes, I'm alright. You were saying?” Reiner asked her sheepishly and noted the way she looked thrown-off by his reaction. He knew he wasn’t making much sense. His brain suddenly seemed too... lazy to process anything happening at that moment. 

“I–I said I met Bertholdt earlier–Reiner, do you want to sit down? You look really pale.” 

“No, no, I’m fine.” He forced a smile in hopes of getting her to stop fussing over him because right now, he didn’t want her to.

“So, Bertholdt,” he turned his back to her and resumed making their dinner, “what’s he doing in New York?” He asked, managing to seem nonchalant and feeling relieved that he was no longer facing his friend, lest she spots the cracks in his facade. 

“Um, he didn’t tell you that he was here?” Pieck asked tentatively, and Reiner nearly burst into a fit of hysterical laughs. 

“No, I had no idea.” 

“Oh. I guess I assumed he told you beforehand.” Pieck said, as if testing the waters.

_Bold of you to assume we talk at all_

Reiner pondered for a second whether he should just lie to her and pretend that he and Bertholdt were as close as she thought they were just so that he can be done with this interrogation but, he just couldn’t bring himself to. 

“No, he didn’t.” Reiner said instead, giving her half the truth and counting on her to figure the rest herself. 

“Because you haven’t been talking.” _Brilliant as ever_

He turned to look at her, his earlier attempts to look nonchalant nearly falling apart upon seeing her kind eyes and for a brief moment, he just wanted to cry and let her hold him. 

“No, we haven’t talked. Not since he went back to Boise after our graduation party.” He said in affirmation, feeling proud of himself for not giving in to the temptation of being vulnerable in front of his best friend without feeling judged for it. 

The silence between them grew heavier, Pieck suddenly speechless for what was like the first time in her life. He couldn’t blame her. What could she even say in response to his earlier confession?

He struggled to understand it himself at the beginning when Bertholdt didn't respond to his calls or messages. He had been devastated when his phone number suddenly became unreachable yet, Reiner liked to think that he had been able to move past it.

Bertholdt wasn’t the first person to just up and leave, cutting him off and forgetting about his existence before he could process what he had done wrong. He desperately wanted to think that he had gotten used to it but, this discussion was enough proof that he had been terribly mistaken. Three years later and the wound his childhood friend had left on his gaping heart had yet to heal. 

Dinner went in a blur, with Reiner trying his hardest to reign in his racing thoughts by focusing on the sound of utensils as they clinked on porcelain and Pieck’s meaningless chatter about one of the troublemakers in her class to which he gave short, non-committal comments.

It was in vain. Reiner couldn’t take off his mind off the man whom he once felt proud of himself for getting over him. Alas, the universe must be conspiring against him if it decided that he needed this when he just started to feel remotely better in so long, surrounded by the two people that truly cared about him. 

His mind suddenly latched onto a certain word from his earlier conversation with his roommate, and Reiner couldn’t believe he had been so distracted to forget about it. 

“Why did you think I’ll be mad at you and Porco?” He asked suddenly, and Pieck nearly choked on her food before she broke into a fit of coughs. She looked so taken-off guard as if she wished he wouldn’t remember her begging him to promise her to not get angry at them. 

She reached for her glass of water and although Reiner knew he needed to apologize for spurring that on her out of nowhere, he simply didn’t find it in his heart to care in that moment. 

“Well,” she started after a while, her voice still hoarse from the earlier accident “we may have invited him to hang out on Friday night.” 

“So? Why would I be mad?” He wouldn’t mind it if his friends decided to be civil with Bertholdt or even be best-buddies with him. He already had an evening shift at the bar that Friday anyway. For the first time, Reiner felt that he would gladly play his customers’ shrink as long as it would take his mind off of the man whom he wished he never learnt of his presence in this city. 

“Because we will hang out at the McGee's.” 

Reiner sunk back in his chair, his appetite suddenly gone and he closed his eyes before he sighed audibly. 

“Reiner, I’m really sorry. Pock really didn’t know! You know how he is and he was just trying to be nice. He really thought you’d be happy to see Bertholdt and we knew you had a night shift on Friday, so...” Pieck sounded desperate but, frankly Reiner couldn’t bring himself to feel mad at her or at Porco. He felt like all his willpower, all his patience, had been sucked out of him in the course of an hour.

He felt that the man who was standing in the kitchen moments ago, humming as he was trying to be nice to his best friend was a distant memory from a time where he felt remotely happy. 

“We could cancel on him or go somewhere else. You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.” Pieck offered in an attempt to placate him but, Reiner couldn’t find it in him to appreciate her for being considerate. 

Fuck it. He didn’t give a shit anymore. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll come in and say hello. If I have the time. I’m sure Cindy wouldn’t mind to cover for me for a few minutes.” 

“Are you sure?” He knew she was skeptical of his sudden change of behavior but, he no longer had any will to carry on with this conversation. 

“Yes. I’m sure Bertholdt just had a lot on his plate and, I wasn’t exactly in a great place either during the last three years. We will smooth things over so, don’t worry about me.” He gave her one of his toothy grins–the one that signaled that people should just leave him the fuck alone.

He stood up abruptly and reached instinctively for their plates before Pieck assured him that she could at least wash the dishes in thanks for the delicious meal they just ate. He weakly nodded and headed toward his room before he collapsed down on his bed. He closed his eyes, the familiar feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach lulling him strangely to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of this chapter? I'd love to hear from you guys!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it the impending reunion of our favorite boys yet? let's find out!  
> Thanks to everyone for reading and taking the time to comment xx

**Pieck**

Pieck was greeted by the loud, blasting music as soon as she stepped inside the pub, and winced at the distasteful choice of tunes the bar’s owner seemed to take pride in showcasing. Bracing herself for the inevitable headache that she would most likely wake up with the following day, Pieck shrugged off her coat, the stuffiness of the place making her garments cling to her skin. 

She stood still for a few moments, swiftly scanning the crowd in an attempt to locate Porco. She breathed a sigh in relief as soon as she spotted the strawberry blond mop of hair seated on one of the bar stools. Since it was Friday, the place was already packed with patrons at half past eight in the evening. She felt sorry for Reiner who had been enduring this at least four times a week for the last three years. She doubted it was all fun and easy when everyone was already piss drunk, even if it was still the first hours of the night. She hoped that they would at least be generous with their tips. 

Pieck maneuvered herself between the strewn chairs and tables to where Porco was seated, and tried, with a lot of difficulties, to not knock into any patron or waiter. Succeeding in her mission without it ending with shattered glasses or any kinds of spots on her cream-colored blouse, Pieck felt herself relax as soon as she stood behind Porco. He was lively chatting to Reiner while sipping on his beer. Reiner’s face lit-up the moment he noted her presence before he uttered a small "the usual?”, smiling warmly as she nodded with enthusiasm. She gave Porco a short hug before she settled down in her own seat. She reached for her own glass as soon as her roommate slid it toward her and almost moaned in delight as soon as the ice-cold scotch traveled down her throat, the burning sensation very much welcome. 

Ever since her encounter with Bertholdt on Monday and the following discussion she had had with Reiner, Pieck had been feeling both mentally and physically drained for the rest of the week. Although, she was quite taken off-guard by her roommate’s calm demeanor upon learning the once dreaded news. She quite frankly braced herself to face the wrath of her neighbors when she would be apologizing profusely for making her roommate wake up the whole floor in the heat of their argument. Obviously, she was relieved that he didn’t end up doing so but, Pieck still felt distraught at his reaction.

She had expected him to be mad and lash out at her but, she didn’t predict he’d react that particular way. Whatever _that_ way had been.

She had felt like her heart will jump out of her chest as she took in the way his face had gone pale, as if the blood was drained from it. He had stood there for a few but, long seconds, motionless, staring at a spot behind her shoulder and breathing shallowly. Pieck had feared then for a moment that she might need to get professional help for whatever state he seemed to spiral into at the mention of their old friend’s name. The dinner that followed the first half of the news Pieck decided to share had been so awkward with the heavy silence that settled between them. Pieck had never felt more self-conscious about her loud chewing. Reiner didn’t seem to be bothered by it though, when usually he would’ve never missed a chance to complain about it. Her best friend didn’t seem to even register her presence next to him as he looked lost in whatever thought was racing through his mind. He simply sat there, picking at his own food as if he found the scrumptious meal that he had made with such care, simply tasteless. Pieck pondered then if Reiner just needed some time to process things on his own. She had decided then that she would deliver the other half of the news– the one that Pock should’ve told him about **himself** since it had been his own fuck-up– when she deemed that her roommate had had enough time to accept the return of the man he once had feelings for.

Her hopes of that happening had been soon blown to smithereens when Reiner had decided to ask her why she had made him swear he wouldn’t get mad at them. Pieck was taken off-guard at his reaction, or rather, the lack thereof. He wasn’t mad and he didn’t go into a fit of swearing or shouting like he did in the rare moments he ever got angry. He just fell silent and said nothing. It didn’t reassure her in the least. On the contrary, it _scared_ her because, she didn’t understand him then. She felt like she didn’t know him at all. She could deal with Reiner when he’s angry. She could also deal with him when he’s crestfallen and in need of comforting.

She wanted to believe that she had been able to manage when he was in his worst states of mind. 

She had no idea how to talk to him about anything when he'd crawl into himself and refuse to let her in, like the way he had seemed to be doing then. 

He must have picked on how distressed she had been because he was quick to put back on the cheerful facade he’d perfected throughout the years. Pieck knew then that it was her cue to just leave him be. She felt powerless when she couldn’t at least offer him some consolation.

She hoped that they would have enough time until Friday. Maybe he would open up about whatever happened between him and his childhood friend that made them drift apart. She already had a rough idea about what might have transpired between them after Reiner confessed his feelings but, they seemed fine when they met years later at their graduation night. They looked like best buddies to her and to anyone that saw them then and, Pieck struggled to remember anything that might’ve indicated the opposite. 

Well, to be fair, they were pretty baked that night so her memories were quite hazy. 

Something must have happened. She believed that firmly. But, she didn’t find it in her heart to ask Reiner about it. She hated to see him upset and she could tell that anything regarding his and Bertholdt's friendship was a sore topic he desperately wanted to avoid. Him pretending that their conversation didn’t happen in the following days was enough proof to indicate that Pieck should just keep her own theories to herself. 

Porco was also alarmed by Reiner’s lack of response to his “major fuck-up" like he referred to it. He called her on a Wednesday evening and Pieck had never reached for her phone as quickly as she had done then, thankful for the distraction from the horrifying excuse of an essay she’d been trying to grade slash decipher for the last hour. It turned out that he decided to “man-up” and take responsibility for having possibly screwed his friend over. So, he went out of his way to invite Reiner for a beer on a weekday. He had found it just as odd that Reiner was his usual self- slightly more cheerful even– and they both wondered if maybe Reiner was simply happy that his childhood friend moved to New York after all. It wasn’t that ludicrous of a possibility; he cared deeply about the guy. Yes, it was a bit more than the other did or appreciated from him but, it still came from a place of love. Perhaps, Reiner was still in love with him and was able to forgive Bertholdt for seemingly cutting him off. Or, even better– for both Bertholdt's and his own sake– maybe he finally moved on and got over his problematic feelings for his straight friend. Pieck and Porco agreed that they would be fine with both of those outcomes, despite them both knowing that it would benefit Reiner more if he had gotten over his habit of chasing after unavailable, hetero men. 

It also pleased them to no end to see that Reiner wasn’t planning on asking them to cancel their night out with Bertholdt or demand that they do it somewhere else far away from where he was. Despite it likely being the source of Reiner’s chagrin, they really wanted to see Bertholdt more and reconnect with him after all these years spent apart. Pieck felt her heart swell when Porco confided in her how genuinely happy he was that her old friend lived close to his place. She was grateful for Porco committing weekly to an hour-long cab drive for the last three years but, she was relieved that he now had someone else he could hang out with whenever he didn’t feel like leaving Brooklyn, for a cheap beer and a greasy burger at the bar she and Reiner have been adamant to drink at for as long as they’ve been in Manhattan. 

Reiner refilled her glass as soon as it was empty and after almost knocking it down it in the same fashion, Pieck felt herself relax as the alcohol coursed through her bloodstream. She suddenly didn’t mind the trashy music that gyrated on her nerves fifteen minutes ago. Although, it did feel like it had gotten significantly warmer since she first set foot inside the cramped pub. She had a serene smile on her face as she listened to Porco recount one of the incidents they had at the office, cheeks flushed pink after his second beer. She was pretty sure that eighty percent of whatever he was blabbering about was the product of his imagination but, neither she nor Reiner attempted to point that out. They got used to his gimmicks and she had to admit that that new lawyer twerking in the middle of a meeting before taking his shirt off seemed like someone Pieck would love to meet. 

Pieck chanced a glance at Reiner, trying to gauge how nervous or upset he was at the impending meeting with Bertholdt but, his expression didn’t tell her much. He was... normal. He was surprisingly his usual self, albeit a bit tired. But that was the way Reiner often looked by the end of the day, or the night in his case. It was a resulting mixture of working evening shifts and sleeping during daylight. Pieck wished for the first time that Reiner didn’t have to work such an underpaid and taxing job. 

She suddenly felt like kicking herself for forgetting about a crucial thing that concerned her best friend. Granted, she had been pretty distracted the entire week so, no wonder a brief discussion that same day with the headmaster in the school’s hallway was forgotten as soon as it ended. Or, maybe she had had too much to drink and it was high time she ordered some food in order to sober up a little bit. 

Reiner was no longer with them since he was tending to another table. Pieck registered absentmindedly his forced laugh as he politely engaged in some chatter with one of the regulars. She frowned at the way one of the patrons had his hand on her friend’s backside and she pressed her nails hard in her palms as she noted Reiner’s evident discomfort. She tried her hardest to stop herself from coming to his rescue and give the entitled creep a piece of her mind but, she didn’t want to cause Reiner troubles with his boss. The more reason she needed to talk to him as soon as he was back by their side. 

Pieck started flipping through a menu before she settled on a burger that she would most likely end up sharing with Porco. She called for the other waitress, Cindy, and couldn’t help a snicker escaping her when the raven-haired woman flipped Porco off the moment he greeted her. 

“Shit, she _really_ hates my guts.” Porco muttered grimly before he downed the remaining of his drink in one go. They really needed to get something that’s not alcohol in their bellies. 

“I told you not to do it.” Reiner reappeared again, carrying a tray full of empty glasses, “but, you didn’t listen.” 

“I was _drunk._ I can’t believe you guys me let me hook-up with her. You’re my friends, you’re supposed to stop me from making terrible, stupid decisions like sleeping with the waitress of my second favorite bar.” Porco groaned, before he banged his head against the counter in a loud thump. 

“We tried to but, you’re not usually prone to listen to reason when it comes to where you stick your dick.” Reiner reminded him and Pieck nodded in agreement. Reiner had made sure to never let him and Cindy cross paths so far as he often tended to their table himself every time that she was on a shift but, more often than once he failed to. Pieck didn’t blame Cindy. Porco was being an asshole when he never called her again slash **hung up** on her. He had it coming. 

“Like you’re any better, Braun.” 

“I never fuck anyone you or Pieck know.” Reiner argued and Pieck resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his statement. 

“Exactly– that’s just as problematic.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Both of you have no right to talk about this. You both should start listening to _me_ –” Pieck interjected before her friends burst into laughter. 

“Oh, that is so rich." 

“Excuse me?” Pieck crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Yeah, because maybe we should start talking about Samuel then.” Porco began, and Pieck cringed at the mention of her Literature classmate back in sophomore year. 

“Or Betty.” Reiner joined in. 

“Or Jordan. Oh shit, I want to talk about Jordan and his-” 

“Alright!” Pieck cut him short because she really didn’t feel like sitting and listening to them tear down each of her failed relationships. “You made your point.” Fine, she wasn’t as exemplar as she liked to think she was when it came to dating but, she still considered herself less problematic than the two men closest to her. Perhaps they should probably stop meddling in each other’s love affairs. 

Great, she got distracted again. 

Reiner didn’t seem like he was going anywhere any time soon so, Pieck decided it was best to tell him now what was on her mind. 

“By the way, Reiner,” she began, stopping as soon as her requested burger was set in front of her. She instantly felt her mouth water at the sight. One of the reasons she wished they hung out at this bar more frequently was because they served the best burger in all of New York, and Pieck tried a _lot_ of burgers throughout the years. She had half a heart to ask Porco to order his own because suddenly she was very hungry and didn’t feel like sharing anymore. 

“I’ve got a job offer for you.” That got her his attention, as he stopped cleaning the glasses he brought with him earlier. 

“See, the Year–Seven and Year-Nine’s math's teacher will be taking a paid leave next month. His wife was admitted in the hospital- cancer I think, the headmaster didn’t want to disclose any personal information– so, they need a substitute teacher.” 

“So?” Reiner asked, resuming the task at hand. 

“So? Dude, it’s high time you put that Mathematics degree of yours to use. Academics don’t work as bartenders in a shitty pub until retirement and if you keep going like this, you might end up doing just that.” Porco interjected before he bit into his own half of the burger. 

“So, I should just settle for teaching middle schoolers basic equations and call that a career? _That_ feels like giving up to me.” Reiner scoffed. He looked evidently disinterested by what Pieck considered a decent offer. 

“And what’s your best bet, huh? Writing a book or two and be fucking proud at the ten percent royalty you get?” Porco’s bluntness could be appreciated at some times, and Pieck couldn’t deny how right he was. _“That_ seems like giving up to me.” He snorted, and Pieck felt guilty for the way Reiner’s face fell at his mocking tone. He did admit to her once that that was one of his long-term dreams. 

“It’s just... I’m not good with kids.” Reiner began, seemingly not as dismissive of the prospect of teaching as he had been moments ago. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re **great** with kids!” Pieck exclaimed and Porco grunted in affirmation, busy as he was with devouring his food. 

“That’s not true.” 

“Have you seen you? No, let me rephrase this. Have you seen you with _Gabi_?” 

“Gabi is my cousin so, naturally, she likes me. That hardly counts.” 

“Gabi is a _devil_. A cute one, but a little demon nonetheless. Yet, she’s as subdued as a kitten whenever she’s around you.” Pieck reminded him, shaking her head in disbelief. Reiner was simply perfect for the job and she had to make sure that he knew that. At worse, it’s still way better than working from evening to dawn three times a week and wreck his sleeping schedule as a consequence. Plus, from what she had witnessed earlier; it could get uncomfortable when dealing with certain customers. 

“I’ll give it some thought, OK?” He finally said, defeated. Pieck grinned widely when thinking how Reiner be her colleague soon. 

When Pieck felt phone vibrated in the pocket of her jeans, she quickly wiped her hands clean with a napkin before unlocking the device. She barely had the time to read the message she just received before she was startled by the sound of glass shattering, her phone nearly slipping from her hands in her surprise. Reiner cursed under his breath as he bent down in order to retrieve the broken shards, hissing as soon as he did. Pieck was on the verge of telling him to go fetch a broom before he got himself injured when she heard her name being called, followed by Porco’s. Pieck turned around at the sound and took in the sight of Bertholdt as he crossed the pub towards them. 

“Hey guys.” He said breathlessly and Pieck stood up from her seat. The taller man bent down to her level as she pulled him in a tight hug before Porco did the same. Pieck glanced at Reiner, seeing that he was already back on his feet and felt her heart sink as she noticed the blood trickling down his hand. He stood there staring at the scene in front of him, as if he was grounded to the floor underneath him. He was also staring at a spot behind them. Following his gaze, Pieck took in the blond woman who suddenly appeared by Bertholdt’s side and noted, with a blooming sense of dread, the way his hand instantly settled on her small waist. 

“Guys, this is Annie” He said, a shy smile plastered on his face as he looked down at her. “My fiance.” 

Pieck noted the way Annie’s lips quirked in a small smile as soon as the words left his mouth. She instinctively turned toward Reiner the moment her eyes landed on the shiny diamond ring on Annie’s finger when she raised her hand to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. 

Pieck didn’t really know what she had expected to see then. Part of her thought she’d see Reiner’s face steaming with hot rage. Another part was convinced she’d see him burst into hysterical tears. Her mind felt sluggish as she struggled to ran every possible scenario regarding the next few minutes following this bombshell that Bertholdt had just dropped on them. 

However, she wasn’t ready for what she saw then. 

Reiner's empty gaze broke her heart in ways she never thought were possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter for Thursday!  
> Trigger warning for self-harm content in this chapter. I have updated the tags accordingly. If you know it'll make you feel uncomfortable, please skip the very last part of the chapter.  
> Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

To Reiner, the ideal way to deal with any hardship in his life had always been to ignore it. Pretend it didn’t exist. Bottle up his emotions inside until his body and brain assimilated it, then transformed it into one atom among the other billions that constituted his being. If it was part of him, he would get used to it and It wouldn’t hurt him then. And so, life will go on. He will be able to forget whatever had once kept him awake at night. Reiner often entertained the thought that this coping mechanism made him invincible. He took much pride in knowing that whatever life planned for him, he’d be able to take it. And take he would, until it was no more. His therapists didn’t agree much with him but, fuck those guys. The only reason he saw any of them was to humor his mother, and Pieck too at some point in his life. 

His stoic attitude was how he had faced the hurt and betrayal he had felt when his father left. He could still vividly remember the disdain with which that man had often looked at him. It was as if the mere idea that Reiner was his flesh and blood repulsed him. As the years went by, Reiner struggled to remember a time his father had looked at him any differently. He didn’t beat him or abuse him. He barely acknowledged his existence most of the time and back then, Reiner didn’t think much of it. He marveled at the way Bertholdt’s dad often played and joked with his son. Reiner could easily conjure up the memory of his warm smile and the way his eyes twinkled, full of affection. It was as if he felt grateful, blessed even, to have a son like Bertholdt in his life. In his darkest hours, Reiner thought that the problem resided in him. Any father would’ve been proud to have a smart, gentle boy like Bertholdt for a son. His own dad might have looked at him differently if Reiner had such redeeming qualities himself. In his better days, Reiner would firmly believe that his dad showed his love for him differently. Reiner decided then he could be fine with that. Different wasn’t bad after all. Different was simply _different_. At least, that was what his mum said.

But then again, she was talking about him being bipolar. 

_“Honey, it’s just the way your brain was hardwired.”_ She had told him the first time he was diagnosed at the age of eight. _"Many creative, amazing, funny, artistic people have the same condition as you do.”_

_“Like... Who?”_ He had asked noting the panic that briefly flashed in his mother’s eyes. 

_“Uh...”_ She stuttered, fidgeting under his inquisitive stare _“Vincent Van Gogh... Sylvia Plath... Oh! And your favorite—”_ Her eyes lit up, seeming suddenly confident that she might get this right after all, _"Kurt Cobain.”_

As he grew up, Reiner realized that his mother wasn’t as accepting of the disorder she had and gave to her own son as she wanted him to believe. She did call them both “crazy” when she tried to justify the reason for which her husband just up and left without saying goodbye. Although, Reiner suspected that she was drunk and grieving then, since she never uttered that word again. 

It didn’t matter to him in the end. Reiner simply took comfort in knowing that at least she didn’t end up leaving him too. 

As painful as it had been, Reiner was grateful that at least he learnt how to be strong for himself and for the people around him. If he ever let his guard down, he knew that he’ll break, and on more than one occasion, he fell prey to that temptation. The first time he did was when he broke into uncontrollable sobs as he admitted his feelings for Bertholdt when he was sixteen. Pieck held him against her chest then, murmuring soft reassurances as she ran her fingers through his hair. Reiner allowed himself to be selfish and vulnerable then, grief clouding his judgement. His friend had been alarmed by his odd behavior then so, Reiner swore he’d never let her, or anyone else for that matter, see him in that state ever again. He didn’t need to drive away the two people he cared about the most in the world by simply being who he was. 

What happened last year was already enough proof that he should never let that happen, even if it broke him. 

He had almost caved in again when Pieck told him about meeting Bertholdt on Monday. The name had triggered unwanted memories to resurface to the front of his mind then, but he was quick to reign himself in. Reiner liked to think that he was an expert when it came to how much he could make others believe he was as fine as they wanted (needed) him to be. Being twenty-six, he had learnt a thing or two to make everyone believe that they no longer had any responsibility to bring him back on his feet. 

Tricking Pieck and Porco was challenging though, since they knew him better than most people. The days following the revelation of Bertholdt’s return nearly drove Reiner into insanity. Pieck had been meticulously observing every facial expression he made, every word he uttered and every posture of his, before she probed at it under her mental microscope desperately trying to pick up any signs of distress that her roommate might’ve hidden from her. Porco wasn’t any better despite being much subtler. Reiner had arched an eyebrow at the odd offer to pay for their drinks as he dragged him to one of his favorite pubs in Manhattan. 

“Well, I just wanted to have an only-guys night out.” His friend had confessed then while rubbing his neck in a nervous gesture, “you know that I can’t talk about _everything_ in front of Pieck.” Reiner wanted to say that he was hardly the guy he should turn to to boast about his conquests in bed but, he soon realized, when Porco offered that he’d listen to his in return, that this too was a scheme to get some wanted truths out of him. _Well, tough luck_ , Reiner had thought then bitterly, _get me drunk all you want but I’ll carry what happened on Friday or any other night with me to the grave. I won’t humor you with how fucking livid I am at you for going behind my back and asking_ ** _him_** _over to where I felt the lowest._

He knew how this sounded but, even when his closest friends’ fussiness unnerved him most of the time, he couldn’t really be as furious as he knew he ought to be. Reiner was grateful for their friendship, he truly was. Their presence for the last seven years of his life filled his days with laughter and joy he once believed he’d never feel again. As cliche as one might think it was, he did think of them as the ray of sunshine that filtered through the darkness that often obscured his days. They made life bearable, sometimes _good_ even. He knew that he would never be able to convey how truly thankful he was for having them both in his life. It was exactly why he could never let them know how sometimes it was just so fucking hard to leave his own bed. 

It was the curse he had long accepted ever since he left his mother’s womb and opened his eyes to the world. Suffering alone was the way he had chosen to compromise if he ever wanted to have anyone by his side. That was the only way he knew of to keep Pieck and Porco in his life. 

It was why he could never let them know how much it hurt him that Bertholdt had to force himself again into his life, when Reiner wanted so much to forget he ever was part of his. 

So, happy for them he would be if they wanted his oldest friend in their lives. He wouldn’t breathe a single complaint about it. He’ll smile and laugh until he’d believe that he actually wanted the same as they did. Perhaps if he did so, he might end up feeling that way. The once fine line between reality and pretense had long since blurred until they became indiscernible. It could benefit everyone in this situation so, he might as well play the part like they secretly wanted him to. 

So, come Friday evening, Reiner took a deep breath as soon as he changed into his working outfit. He swiped the back of his hand over his eyes in order to catch the tears that blurred his vision as he thought about the inevitable encounter ahead. After regaining his composure, he felt that rehearsed, charming grin of his pull at the corners of his lips. Satisfied that no one would be able to see through the cracks of his facade, he started his evening shift, and felt himself grin even wider when he spotted Porco step inside the bar. 

For a treacherous hour of the evening, Reiner felt himself relax around his friends, falling easily into conversation as they talked about everything and nothing. He felt like he was home then, a welcome feeling that he was astounded by how often he seemed to experience in the last few years. For a few, delightful moments, he really felt that things will work out eventually. 

That was the only explanation he could think of as to why he had let his guard down. The heart-warming presence of his best friends gave him a sense of security he should’ve known wouldn’t last as much as he wished it to. 

Life always made sure to make him remember that lesson. And In this case, Bertholdt most certainly did. 

He was just starting to picture what his life as a teacher could be, and how refreshing it would be to sleep when it’s dark and rise when It's light outside. He felt a rush of excitement then when he thought that maybe his dreams would no longer hung up on the half-empty tipping jar that patrons wanted to pat themselves on the back each time that they filled it with a dollar. 

It felt good to daydream for a few seconds but, it ended as soon as it began. One again, Reiner was reminded of what happens when he starts trusting that life could be good to him. 

The illusion shattered the moment his eyes landed on the tall man whom he once felt over the moon for having in his life. 

He couldn’t hear what Pieck or Porco were saying at that time- If they were even talking at all. His gaze was simply mesmerized on the familiar, yet equally strange silhouette making its way towards them. 

Reiner could no longer hear the music that hurt his ears or the lively chatter of the patrons that filled the stifling pub. For god knows how long, Reiner couldn’t even see anyone else except for Bertholdt as he walked steadily towards him. 

It was like the whole world went silent and dark, save for the figure moving in his direction. He could still make out a few sounds though. Call it a hallucination if you want but, during those few seconds, Reiner would swear he could hear the sound of Bertholdt’s footsteps, and the sound of his breathing as if it was his own. 

He could also hear the blood rushing in his own ears.. 

Despite the state he spiraled in, Reiner couldn’t fathom how he heard the sound of the glass which he’d been cleaning a few minutes prior, shattering as it fell on the floor. Nonetheless, his body operated on autopilot as he bent down to gather the broken shards. 

The sting of its sharp ends as it connected with his hand and tore into his palm brought his mind back into focus. Reiner stayed in his kneeling position, enthralled by the carmine liquid running down his fingertips before morphing into various figures on the pristine clear surfaces. 

_Fascinating as ever,_ he thought for a fraction of a second, his pain briefly forgotten. 

The sound of Porco’s voice as he greeted Bertholdt jarred him from his reverie and Reiner was back on his feet, taking in the scene in front of him. He felt his guts twist painfully as he realized how genuinely happy his friends were as they welcomed Bertholdt into their lives. Perhaps he should’ve taken them on their offer and asked them to see him somewhere else where he didn’t have to witness this. 

He also wouldn’t have had to see Annie Fucking Leonhardt’s face as she caught up with Bertholdt’s long strides before she settled at his side, their evident closeness feeling like a slap on his face. 

“Everyone, this is Annie,” Bertholdt breathed, the muscles near his eyes twitching as he locked gaze with Reiner for a brief second. Reiner felt repulsed to admit how much he was tempted to close his eyes the moment he heard that beautiful voice of his. Three years later and it still didn’t sound any less than music did to his ears. 

“My fiance.” Bertholdt uttered unnecessarily. As if that fucking diamond ring that seemed to brighten the whole place as soon as she stepped inside wasn’t proof enough of the obvious, he also needed to rub it in his face. 

Reiner felt like he had always known that this day would come, and that his life so far had only been the rehearsal for this singular moment. Alas, he wasn’t as ready as he hoped he was.

That was probably why the world seemed to move so fast when his brain was moving too slowly. The only explanation for the way it struggled on what emotion he should feel and what expression his face needed to display. 

He decided not showing anything wasn’t so bad. At least he didn’t burst into tears or break into a fit of frenzy, proving to his dad that he was right in leaving a manic son behind. 

Reiner wondered if laughter would’ve been an appropriate reaction though. He did feel like doing so when it hit him how his life so far had been one long, sadistic joke, and that the punchline had finally been delivered. 

Pieck turned around to look at him, worry etched on her face as if she instinctively picked up on what was going inside his head. And just like that, Reiner was catapulted from an otherworldly realm into the cramped bar that suddenly felt too hot despite everyone wearing few layers inside. 

_There’s your cue, good boy._

_One, two, three..._

It was as if with the snap of fingers that Reiner was himself again, his perfected mask already back in place. His lips stretched into a genuine smile as he turned around looking for Cindy. He marched towards her as soon as she was back, briefly taking in her horrified expression upon seeing him. Reiner remembered then his injured hand from the earlier accident. 

Before he could think of any words of reassurances, Cindy was already by his side, cradling his hand gently in her palms while she assessed the damage. 

“Shit, Reiner. Are you OK?” She asked, visibly shaken, and Reiner chuckled softly at her reaction. 

“Yeah, it’s just a small cut.” God, did he hate when she got fussy and Cindy has been prone to be that way, especially lately. 

“Small? You're fucking _bleeding_ and your sleeves are stained.” She stared at him incredulously and Reiner resisted the urge to just yank his hand back and tell her to fuck off. Alas, he needed a favor from her and he couldn’t antagonize her now. 

“I’ll change later, listen—” 

“Reiner, _seriously_ , are you really alright? This is like the third time in just four days. It’s like... You just look out of it, half of the time.” 

“Cindy, I’m fine. Really. Look, here—” He gently pulled his hand from her smaller ones and reached behind him for a dirty washcloth. He pressed it into his bleeding palm, a dark red spot immediately pooling on its surface. 

“No, you need to disinfect it first—” She started but Reiner had already had enough of her meddling. 

“ _Later_. Listen, can you cover for me for like, ten minutes or fifteen. I, uh, I have some friends that I haven’t seen in years. They're right there—” He turned to point at his friends, carefully avoiding to look at Bertholdt or Annie, despite his earlier efforts to let go of any inconvenient emotion he was feeling. 

“OK, yeah. Sure. But, please, you have to take care of that. And your clothes— we can’t have customers freaking out now or Carl _will_ freak out.” She reminded him before he gave her the list of drinks he had to make. Reiner pulled her then into a quick hug, then strode in the direction of his friends who decided to seat themselves at an empty booth in the far end of the bar some patrons just vacated. 

Clutching the stained fabric tightly to his palm, he practically ran to the group that was animatedly chattering about some mundane things. Annie was the first one to take notice of his presence. For a few moments, she stayed glued to her seat, an unreadable expression on her face as she stared fixedly at him. _Oh Annie_ _Banannie_ _, what are you even worrying yourself for?_

“Well, was nobody meaning to say hello to me? ‘Cause frankly, that’s quite rude.” He could see the way her face relaxed the moment she realized he only came in peace. A quick glance at Bertholdt who was seated next to her, indicated that he was just as anxious as she was, what with the way his tense shoulders seemed to relax upon hearing his playful tone. 

“No.” Annie replied and stood up from her seat, Reiner resisting the urge to point out that she didn’t even grow an inch taller ever since he last saw her “We were just waiting for his royal highness to decide that we were worthy of his company after all.” She practically spat, immediately cringing as if the words sounded better in her head than said out loud. Reiner’s mouth set into a hard line for a fraction of a second at her audacity. _Well_ , he thought with bitter satisfaction, _at least she had the decency to look embarrassed with her indelicate remark._ _But then again, Annie always spoke with a foot in her mouth._

He still bent down and engulfed her in a bear hug, which with she returned with much less vigor. _Clair de la lune. She still smelled the same, ever since she was a little girl._

Bertholdt didn’t seem to share Annie’s enthusiasm for looking like a fool so, he opted for silence, as usual, and approached him with obvious reluctance. Pieck and Porco were probably squirming in their seats from the awkwardness that seemed to settle around them. Reiner had half a mind to turn to them and say with a wide grin _“See, this is why I didn’t want to see these assholes in the first place.”_

Reiner took in the sight of his oldest friend. He was huge, a giant even. He had always been tall, hitting six feet four in less than a year by the time he was fifteen but right now, he looked like he was just shy of hitting six feet five. Call him pathetic but, Bertholdt and Annie looked ridiculous when standing next to each other. 

“Hey, Reiner.” He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. For a fraction of a second, Reiner’s face nearly crumpled and he was terrified he’d break into ugly sobs before collapsing into his once best friend's arms. He felt proud of himself for not giving in – He didn’t need the public humiliation of being shoved away. 

He didn’t do any of the above – Thank the gods – But an almost genuine smile quirked the corner of his lips despite himself. Muscle memory, he’d call it, triggered by a voice that once brought him comfort and joy. 

He really felt like crying. 

“Hello, old friend.” He greeted him back, before he pulled the taller man in a gentle, almost loving embrace that Bertholdt returned promptly. Suddenly, the world went quiet and everything felt right again. But like all good things did in his life, it ended as quick as it began when Bertholdt pulled away and Reiner snapped back to the harshness of his reality. The one where he was instantly reminded that nothing was ever meant to end well, as he stared down at Annie’s hand squeezing his own forearm, the shimmering aquamarine stone adorning her ring finger. 

It hurt too much to think. It hurt too much to feel. So, he’ll do neither of those. 

The moment he shoved every unwanted emotion down the abyss of his mind, he was fine again. 

The following twenty minutes went in a blur, Reiner’s charming attitude immediately kicking in as he fell into a familiar banter with Annie like they used to do when they were younger. He even smiled warmly at Bertholdt when he bashfully confessed about his book soon getting published, blushing as he was prone to do whenever he became the center of attention and on the receiving end of praise. A trait Annie shared with him albeit with less expressive features, as she told them that she would be going to regionals for her ice-skating tournament. Reiner might’ve suggested that the next round was on the house to celebrate his oldest friends’ success. 

He didn’t mind the upcoming wedding discussion too. In fact, Reiner felt like congratulating himself for keeping it together. He nodded in agreement when they said that whatever-venue in Vermont was ideal for them. He enthusiastically praised them for including vegan options in the dinner menu so no one starves on salads or cherry-flavored champagne. At some point, he even suggested he’d be the best man and started negotiating what juicy stories he could tell about the future Mr. and Mrs. Hoover. 

He was doing so well that he barely noticed the time going. He informed them regretfully that he needed to get back to work because he couldn’t leave his colleague suffering alone with the increasing number of customers as the evening stretched out. It didn’t even come off as forced as he feared it would and he made them promise that they’d hang out again when he didn’t have to tend to obnoxious, drunken patrons. 

He really thought that he did better than expected and breathed a sigh in relief as he stood up, proud that he didn’t ruin his friends’ evening. 

He was gravelly mistaken of course. 

He was in the midst of telling some saucy joke to Porco, who was very drunk after his fourth beer that night when he saw it from the corner of his eye. His tongue suddenly felt like lead, and he went silent and motionless, as if grounded to the floor, as he stared at Bertholdt cupping delicately Annie’s face before he pressed their lips together in a tender kiss. 

Some force of nature seemed to bestow on him the will to tear his eyes from the scene in front of him. Without saying any further word, he turned brusquely and mechanically made it back to the counter bar. Cindy seemed delighted at first when she saw him coming to her rescue before – for some reason he didn’t grasp –her eyes widened as if in shock. 

“Reiner-” 

“Coke and vodka, and cranberry margarita for table three.” _And can you please spit in them while you’re at it? Or let me do it instead?_

He didn’t chance staying any longer in case those outrageous thoughts made it past his lips. So, he stormed off to the staff room, faintly registering Cindy’s voice as she called for him. 

By the time he made it, he collapsed into one of the chairs, his breath coming in shallow pants. He could hear himself moaning, as if he was some wounded animal. 

_Too much, too much._

_Retreat._

_Escape._

_Eject. Eject._

He quickly rolled the sleeve of his crisp white shirt up before he sunk his teeth into his exposed arm, the metallic taste of blood feeling welcome in his mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nervously waits for your reactions*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** This chapter contains heavy and explicit mention of self-harm and suicidal ideation. However, it's nothing really relevant plot-wise so if you know it will make you feel uncomfortable please skip to paragraph 11 which starts with "As the high of the endorphins seemed to wear off by each passing minute...".  
> I've separated the triggering content with a 3-line enter space to make it distinguished from the remaining chapter.  
> I've also updated the tags accordingly so check ahead before reading please.  
> Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

Reiner couldn’t tell how long it’d been since he stormed off to the staff changing room. Time was suddenly an abstract concept for him, as he could no longer discern seconds from minutes or even hours. His brain felt foggy, as if he was high on some drugs, and its only remaining function seemed to be of mechanically replaying the evening's events in slow motion. He could hear the previous conversations on repeat inside his head down to every detail, as if his brain was a video camera capturing every word, every facial expression and every hand gesture. Worst of all, he could see and hear himself talking, as if he was detached from his own person. He looked pathetic and pitiful, too caught up in the act to process his own emotions for fear of falling apart. Reiner felt like laughing when he remembered how he thought back then that he had been able to keep everything under control. The angry indentations on his pale skin stared back at him, like a painful reminder of the truth he desperately fought. 

The pain was welcome though. The rush of endorphins that followed it was even better. He knew that some people turned to drugs and alcohol in order to numb their suffering, as they plunged head first into oblivion but, Reiner often found that it was hardly worth the trouble. He enjoyed the one glass of spirits once or twice a week and on the rarest occasions, he indulged himself with smoking a joint. But that was all there was to it. Nothing more. Nothing too excessive. He didn’t have the patience or the will to deal with addictive behaviors’ repercussions on his relationships or the legal consequences it would eventually entail. Plus, it attracted unwanted attention from the people around him and Reiner didn’t need anyone to fuss over him. Pieck and Porco – and sometimes even his mother – were already too much for any human to handle. This... peculiar way of dealing with unbearable emotions was however much more convenient for him. Despite the obvious, physical evidence on his body, Reiner could say with firm conviction that it was actually invisible to the common eye. Of course, when you cut yourself with a knife in the forearm, people are guaranteed to immediately spot the hideous scar that would later form. Reiner learnt that the hard way, and it ended with him in a fucking psychiatry ward for an entire month. The abject horror on his mother’s face when she first discovered his injury was engraved in his memory, and still haunted his dreams at night. Each time she paid him visit then, she would go into one of her passionate speeches about how immature and irresponsible he had been. Later on, she realized that guilt-tripping him didn’t accomplish anything except for making him feel even worse. The doctors probably had had a role in making her understand that. Her insensitive attitude did seem to change overnight as she took to playing the role of the caring, understanding mother that he needed her to be. Reiner saw through her act when he heard her once crying herself to sleep. He swore then that he would never be the cause of her chagrin ever again. 

He didn’t stop hurting himself though – He couldn’t let go of the high he felt as anything sharp tore into his skin – but, he learnt to do it in subtler, less visible ways. Reiner got creative then as he experimented with ways that could deliver the same result without attracting any unwanted attention to himself. 

He started very subtle at first – the classic way; nails – and it was utterly dissatisfying. The crescent-shaped marks were fascinating when they were newly-forming but, his nails were too short to properly tear at the skin. Yes, it offered a brief, heavenly feeling of release but it ended too quickly for his taste. 

Pressing his knuckles into his skin became one of his favorite ways to do it for a while. He had an above-average physical strength that Reiner packed most of it in his arms so, he had been satisfied with the final result. For a while. He soon gave it up though because his fair skin bruised quickly. Too quickly. In more than one occasion, Reiner had needed to wear long-sleeves in the heat of summer to hide the purple bruises that spread across his arms, often for an extended period of time since they took way too long to heal. Reiner loathed it, more than anything else, when they morphed into ugly, yellowish patches before they completely disappeared. 

Razor blades were also deemed inconvenient after his first attempts. They were better than knifes in the sense of not being too obvious. Reiner would admit that he still felt tempted, sometimes when he was taming his beard, to give in and run the thin metal through the surface of any exposed skin. He refrained from ever doing it since he moved with Pieck to Manhattan as one day, he’d been too distracted by his thoughts he’d pressed the sharp blade a bit harder than he intended. He never told anyone this but, the urge to carry on and finish the job as he stared at the blood trickling down his neck had been too hard to resist then. Perhaps, he would’ve done it if Pieck hadn’t barged through the unlocked bathroom door. Whatever she had wanted to tell him then was instantly forgotten when she took in the scene in front of her. She found it hard to believe his assurances that it had been merely an accident but, she still conceded defeat in the end and chose to take him for his word. He knew then that it was out of question to do anything like that as long as he had someone living with him. 

Another argument that made him forsake razors was that, just like knifes’ scars did, they almost never disappeared. Reiner thought that having done it for so long, he would’ve stopped caring by now about preserving the integrity of his own skin but to this day, he still didn’t. A small, treacherous and equally hopeful part of him wanted to believe that one day, he’ll stop feeling as if the whole world was plunged into abysmal darkness. Whenever that was meant to happen, Reiner didn’t want any remaining proof of his prior suffering. He wanted one day to be **properly** happy and forget about this life altogether, as unlikely as that seemed to be. 

Biting was different though. The feeling of his own teeth sinking into his flesh was incomparable to any other way he had injured himself. Any emotion he would be feeling – hopelessness, anger, overwhelm – would dissipate the moment the taste blood would meet his tongue. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as noticeable as he first thought it be. Reiner could easily pass it as a dog’s bite (thank the gods his neighbor Mr. Mackenzie had a dog that Reiner often volunteered to take for a walk) and no one would bat an eyelid. It wasn’t like anyone could tell the fucking difference between humans and dogs' indentations anyway. People weren’t as observant as they often liked to think they were. 

Reiner often fantasized about telling his therapist about his views and ask him if people often liked to get on their high horses and condemn such destructive behaviors, then why did it make him feel so good? However, Reiner managed to fight the temptation and never mention his “problematic” opinions to anyone else. He let it be his own solace every time he felt guilty for hurting himself. He didn’t look forward to spend another month or, god forbid, even longer in a mental hospital if he ever did so. 

Reiner ran his fingertips on the newly-formed marks, lingering on each one of them. People often referred to their injuries as badges of shame. He didn’t. To him, his scars were intimate. Some would say they were like a dirty secret but, Reiner would try to focus on the secrecy aspect of them. They were the only way he could ever be true to himself. Every tear at his skin, every blood that gushed out of a wound, were the one side of him than only he was privy to. Reiner took such thrill in the knowledge that there was at least something in this world that he could truly call his alone. 

As the high of the endorphins seemed to wear off by each passing minute, the heavy fog that settled on his brain seemed to clear and Reiner started to take in his surroundings again. The earlier events came back to him in a rush and Reiner closed his eyes. He breathed in, breathed out, as if he could banish every thought and memory of that cursed evening with each exhale. 

“Reiner?” A reluctant voice resounded in the otherwise dim, freezing room. 

Reiner's eyes fluttered open and he snapped his head up to take in the silhouette stood by the doorframe. He blinked for a few times as his eyes adjusted to the bright light coming from outside the room before he could make out the figure that was making its way towards him in hesitant steps. 

Cindy. 

She was already standing in front of him before he could begin to process what was happening. Her eyes seemed to grow wider as if in shock, and as Reiner followed her gaze, he realized that he forgot to pull down his shirt’s sleeves. 

_Biting in a commonly exposed patch of skin? Amateur_

“Reiner-” she began, voice shaking and Reiner almost rolled his eyes at her in exasperation. 

“It’s not what you think.” He said too quickly to sound remotely credible “You, uh – you need a context to understand.” 

“What context?” She asked incredulously, her lip wobbling, and Reiner prayed to every god that ever existed that she wouldn’t start crying any time soon. 

“I’m-It’s just – Stress. I was feeling... overwhelmed.” He sputtered, mentally kicking himself for not being more careful “You see, uh, my friends are getting married by the end of the year and Pieck, she-she offered me a new job as a teacher. It's – It was too much and I, uh...” He trailed, the words failing him. Reiner was an expert when it came to lying but, he often struggled when put under the spotlight. 

Cindy was visibly upset, and Reiner felt his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots as he saw that look of pity flash through her eyes. They always looked at him that way every time they saw this vulnerable side of him. Every fucking time, without fail. The first time he saw that repulsing look, he vowed to himself he’d make sure no one would gaze at him in that manner ever again. This was far from the first time he was disappointed with himself for not keeping his promise. 

He sighed softly, and closed his eyes. There was a pregnant pause before he said again, his voice barely above a whisper “It’s nothing, Cindy. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

Cindy was silent for a few moments, and Reiner wondered if she had even heard him. She took a deep breath before she knelt down to his level, keeping her gaze downwards. 

“Reiner, are you OK?” She asked after a few seconds, and Reiner resisted the urge to flee. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I am. This won’t happen again. I promise.” He said in an attempt to soothe her “Please forget you ever saw this.” 

“The first-aid kit is-” 

“I know where it is, Cindy. You really don’t have to worry about me.” He reached with a hand and softly ruffled her hair. “I’ve got this.” He gave her one of his charming toothy smiles but, Cindy didn’t seem to buy it. 

“Get back out there, please, or you’ll get us both in trouble. Give me five minutes and I’ll join you.” 

“About that-” She seemed to ponder something. Reiner arched an eyebrow as if to urge her to speak up her mind. 

“You can go home-” 

“No. Cindy. _No_.” Reiner shook his head dismissively “You can’t do this alone on a fucking Friday. It’s barely ten o’clock.” 

“I’ll call a cab for you-” It didn’t look like Cindy was relenting but, he wasn’t going to be deterred either. There was no fucking way he’ll let her on her own just because he had a mental break down. 

“I said _no_. Just give me two minutes and I’ll come help you.” 

“I’ll ask Carl to help-” 

“You can’t tell Carl about this, please. Cindy, _please_ -” Reiner was on the verge of crying. Why did everything have to go against him? Why the fuck did Bertholdt and Annie come here? 

“I have to because, Carl will understand.” She looked at him then and for a second, Reiner was taken back by the genuine kindness in her eyes. _Please,_ ** _please_ ** _, don’t do this. Please don’t be so nice to me. I don’t deserve it._

“Reiner, you’ve been part of the team for three years now.” She reached for his arm, squeezing it in a supposedly comforting gesture and Reiner felt ashamed when he flinched in response. 

“You’re family.” _Fuck you. Fuck all of you, because you fucking idiots have no idea what you’re getting yourself into._

Reiner wished he was brave enough to push her when she pulled him in a hug, running her delicate hands in his hair as she did. Alas, he was a coward and he yearned for any kind of affection that was given to him. For a few moments, his body betrayed him and he leaned into her soothing touch. _Sweet, kind Cindy. You really don’t deserve this worthless waste of space because he could never pay you back for the goodness in your heart._

“You don’t have to work on the weekend. Brooke and I will deal with it.” She said once she released him from her embrace, Reiner instantly missing her comforting touch. 

“More reason for Brooke to hate my guts.” Reiner mumbled bitterly. 

“Brooke is nicer than you give her credit for.” Cindy said placatingly “Yes, she could be catty but, that’s like, her natural mood. You shouldn’t take it personally.” Reiner chuckled lightly in response before nodding weakly. 

“Right, off you go, big guy. But you need to clean that up first.” Cindy said in a voice that reminded him of Pieck’s teaching tone. He never gave it to her to be so bossy. 

“Aye, aye Ma'am.” Reiner felt himself smile genuinely for the first time that night as he saw the tension leave her shoulders. 

“OK, I’ll call a cab for you-” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Reiner stood up, his body feeling suddenly heavy as the last two hours started catching up on him. 

It took him another minute where he tried to reassure Cindy that he really was heading home before she was finally convinced that she was no longer needed. Reiner felt his face fall the moment she shut the door behind her before she went back to work. 

He changed back into his casual outfit, and sprayed an anti-septic on both of his wounds, hissing as the stinging substance came into contact with the fresh injuries. A quick glance in the bathroom's mirror confirmed his suspicions as to how he looked - terrible, with crusty, dried-up blood on his lips and his face pale like a sheet of paper. He splashed some water on his tired face and scrubbed the blood off his lips. Satisfied that he started looking remotely human again, he shrugged on his coat before he went through the backdoor. He stepped outside, the freezing night air feeling refreshing on his skin. Reiner stood there for a few minutes, focusing on his breathing in an attempt to gain a modicum of composure. His efforts were fruitless, as the night’s events started replaying again on the front of his mind. He suddenly felt restless and on edge. As the thoughts started racing through his head, Reiner realized that he couldn’t be alone now. He felt almost bad for having to break his promise to Cindy to head back home and catch a few hours of sleep but, it wasn’t the first time he was letting someone down so, why would it matter now? 

Reiner unlocked his phone, noting that he had an unread message from Pieck asking him about his whereabouts, along with two missing calls. His thumb hovered over the reply button before he closed the messaging app. He swiped through his screen looking for a particular app and felt a rush of relief as soon as he spotted the familiar purple icon. He could hear Pieck’s voice in the back of his mind as she desperately tried to deter him from doing this ever again but, he was too agitated and upset to care. One more person on the ever-growing list of the people he disappointed so far wasn’t going to hurt. 

He settled for the nearest guy to his location and after a few quick messages back and forth, the man texted him the address of his own apartment. It wasn’t ideal and definitely not in his style but, it was hardly the moment to be picky. He just needed someone, _anyone_ at all. 

The cab ride went in a blur and Reiner could barely process anything as his legs carried him through the two flights of stairs, the prospect of going inside a lift suddenly claustrophobic. 

Reiner knocked frantically at the door as soon as he stood in front of it, not caring that he might’ve woken up the entire floor. Reiner barely caught a glimpse of the man behind the door as it was pulled open before he was roughly pushed against the wall, lips crashing against his in a harsh kiss. He didn’t come for this – he _didn’t_ need this. 

He shoved the man away from him, breathing harshly. Under different circumstances, he would’ve found the bewildered confusion etched on the man’s face endearing. He reached for his hand instead and led him to the end of the corridor where he presumed his bedroom was. 

In more than one occasion in his life, Reiner has cursed the brain he was born with. The way it seemed to latch on every word and twitch of muscle in everyone’s face, or get stuck on a thought, as if he was choking. How it would keep him awake at night while it ran every worst scenario, and ruminated on every snarky remark directed at him on infinite loop until he couldn't breathe or think or stand to be alive. His mind often made his life a living hell by tarnishing every memory of his with dread and hopelessness. It also prevented him from feeling remotely good when it raced at the speed of ten miles a minute. 

Reiner tried to focus on the present moment; on the way the man above him touched him so delicately as if he was made of glass, and how he peppered his skin with feather-like kisses, his treacherous body crawling at what was supposed to be a tender and gentle touch. Alas, he just couldn’t shake off the image of his friends kissing ever so lovingly from his mind. 

He closed his eyes, the sound of the metallic headboard banging against the wall in front of him suddenly faint in the distance as he pictured again and again the way Bertholdt held her face, a genuine smile pulling at his lips before he brought them together in the tenderest kiss Reiner had ever seen. 

_It should’ve been me. Why is it never me?_

_Why? Why do I keep falling for it? Why do I keep falling for you?_

_Why her? What does she have that I don’t?_

He bit hard into his lip, drawing blood as a particularly hard thrust propelled him forward, nearly smashing his head into the cold metal in front of him. 

_Why the fuck did she have tied to her wrist the bracelet I gave you?_

The man behind came in a low growl and collapsed on top of him, nearly making him lose his balance. 

“Sorry, just... Give me a minute.” He panted heavily in his ear. 

“I’m fine.” Fuck this. Fuck those assholes. 

“But - you _didn’t-_ ” 

“I’m _fine_. Get off me.” Reiner snapped, wincing as the man pulled out before he collapsed in the mattress, panting harshly. 

Reiner clambered off the bed and started hastily putting his clothes back on. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” The man asked him, his breathing having gotten back to normal.

“Rudolph Valentino.”

“OK, not-Rudolph, I’m Ralph.” He chuckled nervously “How about we go eat something? I know a good sushi place that’s still open.” This was why Reiner never did it with gay, single men. 

Reiner stood silent in the dim bedroom for a few seconds, the only sounds that could be heard were of their breathing – the other’s being slightly shallower as he anxiously awaited his response. He would’ve never asked him out if he knew what disappointment he was setting himself for. 

Reiner could no longer do this. At the age of twenty-six and after having suffered as much as he did, he felt like whatever patience he had, had dried up. He needed out, but he couldn’t _leave_. 

He needed something new. A fresh start. 

“I have to go study.” He replied after a few moments, his mind recalling his earlier conversation with Pieck about the job her school was offering him. 

“It’s almost midnight. Damn, I didn’t know you were a college student – You're at least eighteen, right?” The man asked, suddenly alarmed. Reiner didn’t feel like humoring him with a response. 

He turned around, stalking from the room and headed towards the door. It was late in the night but, he desperately needed a distraction - something to focus on that's unrelated to anything regarding the olive-skin tanned man who's made him this miserable in merely twenty minutes. 

Reiner called in an Uber before texting Pieck that he would be back in an hour, turning his phone to silent when his roommate started calling him. 

Even if he couldn’t feel as enthusiastic as one was ought to be at the prospect of a better-paying and more respected job, he knew it would at least help take off his mind from the chaos of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, was this hard to write but, necessary :<  
> What did you think of this chapter? Let me know in the comments down below!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I guess I was quicker with editing than I planned to be. So, here it is - New update!  
> Enjoy xx

**Bertholdt**

“Well, that was something.” Annie’s voice resounded from the bathroom, where she was busy wiping her make-up off her face. “And I’m being very, _very_ nice when I describe whatever that dumpster fire of an evening was.” 

“Really? I had fun.” Bertholdt shrugged on a pair of grey sweatpants, cringing immediately as he spotted the mustard spot on one of the legs. Perhaps he should stop eating in bed after all. Annie would greatly appreciate that too. 

“I mean, _you looked_ like you had fun. Pieck and Porco were great company.” Bertholdt added as if in an afterthought. He chose to omit wearing a shirt as his skin was still sticky with sweat from the stifling hot bar that they left over an hour ago. 

“No, they're nice but, I’m not talking about them. I meant _him_.” 

Bertholdt knew who she was exactly referring to but, he was too tired and a bit drunk. He just wanted to go straight to bed. 

“Who?” He settled for playing dumb, in hopes that Annie was just as tired and would drop the matter altogether. 

“You know who I’m talking about.” No tough luck then. Should he nod to everything she says so she lets him off the hook? He really didn’t like to talk right now about anything and his bed looked really inviting. 

Annie reemerged from the bathroom; her face covered in a pink layer of some sort of cream. They have been dating for the last six years but, they only started living together for a week. Bertholdt went to a university in Boise, Idaho, but Annie had moved to New York when she was eighteen. Long-distance relationships were as tricky as people often made them to be, the whole not being close to each other was challenging and even lonely in more than one occasion. Yet, they managed somehow to make it work. They both had their phones and access to internet after all so face timing was how they communicated and they soon fell into a routine that fit both of their busy college lives. They were aware that living together was different from Skyping each other five days out of seven but, so far, they had been worrying over nothing. He and Annie fit like two pieces of the same puzzle and Bertholdt couldn’t imagine his life without her. The only drawback was getting used to seeing her with different colored face masks or under-eye patches but, Bertholdt liked to think he had been doing a fine job so far. 

“Frankly, I was glad he left after those twenty minutes of utter torture.” Annie changed into her own pair of shorts and sports bra, before walking toward the end of the room and plug her phone to its charger. “Although, I think he actually left his workplace the moment he did part from us. There was like, another guy with that waitress.” Annie reflected, typing furiously on her phone. “I wonder what that was about.” 

Bertholdt chose to say nothing in comment. He didn’t know what to say and he found it just as strange. Although, he had an inkling as to what the reason behind his old friend’s disappearance was. 

“I think Reiner was fairly welcoming, all things considered.” Bertholdt opted for being vague. He laid back on his own side of their bed, and reached for his copy of _Sun & Steel _by Yukio Mishima – He had taken quite a liking to Japanese literature recently – before turning the lamp side on. He didn’t miss the way Annie rolled her eyes at his comment. 

“Welcoming, yes. Weird and _seriously_ concerning, **definitely**.” She muttered and this time Bertholdt felt like rolling his eyes in exasperation. He knew Annie wasn’t going to let this go until she took whatever complaints she had about their evening or rather, their old friend, off her chest. 

Annie crossed the room towards the lights switch, before she glanced at him. He nodded at her and she flickered the lights off. Before long, he heard the sheet rustle as she settled by his side. 

“I mean, he looked so agitated. Like, he took some pills or something. Not very professional, if you ask me. Maybe his boss sent him back for that reason?” Annie rambled on and Bertholdt found it increasingly hard to focus on his book. 

“Come on, Annie, you’re being too harsh on him.” He said, flinching when he realized his tone sounded more accusing than he intended it too. 

“I’m just speculating. Even you have to admit that something about him was off.” 

“Maybe he was just nervous or something.” Bertholdt tried to reason with her “It’s been almost seven years since high school after all.” 

“Didn’t you go and see him or them on graduation night three years ago?” Annie frowned, confused. Bertholdt felt his heart pool in the pit of his stomach. Thinking about that graduation night felt too overwhelming in his state of exhaustion. 

“Yeah but, still. I haven’t talked to Reiner in so long. We were just...awkward.” 

“No, not awkward. _That_ wasn’t awkward. His friends looked awkward, they were practically dying in their seats and wishing to flee. Although, they relaxed the moment he left.” Annie sighed softly before she said again “But, then again, Reiner has always been a bit insane ever since we were kids.” 

“What?!” Bertholdt looked at her then, incredulously. He was so taken aback that he wondered for a moment if he had actually heard her right. 

“OK, not insane _insane_ _.”_ Bertholdt felt relieved to see her look contrite _“_ Just _..._ It was never easy to hang out around him. He had always been... too energetic, and cheerful and too touchy but, at the same time, oddly cynical? He was just... too much.” Annie flailed her hands around in frustration and Bertholdt was puzzled as to where this was coming from. 

“You didn’t seem to mind his quirks much when you looked like you had the time of your life bantering with him. Something you’ve always enjoyed to do ever since we were kids.” Bertholdt reminded her. 

“Well, I’m not saying he’s not likable.” 

“You said it wasn’t easy to be around him – _Your_ literal words.” 

“On the long term; yes, because that’s what he’s been alluding to.” 

“Because he said we should hang out again?” Bertholdt asked her, quizzically. He has never seen Annie be this uptight about something as she was usually quite easy-going about almost, _everything_. “It hardly counts as anything, because a) he might’ve said that for the sake of being friendly and b) why would it be so bad to see him again?” 

“No, not that part. I meant the “Best Man” part.” 

“Because under other circumstances, he would’ve been, easily!” Bertholdt exclaimed, feeling his nerves fraying the longer this conversation went “It wouldn’t be that weird to make my childhood and best friend my best man at my own wedding.” 

“Who are we talking about again? Because as far as I remember he’s neither of the two things that you just mentioned.” Annie arched a thin eyebrow at him as if daring him to deny her statement. Bertholdt closed his book forcefully before putting it back on his nightstand. 

“As far as I remember he was both _our_ friend.” Bertholdt muttered, grimly. 

“Yeah, until we graduated from high school. We haven’t heard a word from him since then.” Annie tried to remind him even though Bertholdt didn’t need her to. 

“We _cut him off_ -” He began saying before Annie cut him short. 

“We _grew up_.” She corrected him, in a well-rehearsed tone as if she’d tried to convince herself of the same before. “It happens. Friends drift apart when they’re out of high school. What happened with Reiner wasn’t so different and frankly, I’ve been fine with the way things have been for the last few years.” Annie concurred and despite knowing that there was some truth to his fiance’s words, a stubborn part of him didn’t want to acknowledge it yet. 

“Well, we didn’t drift apart as it was expected us to be, didn’t we? We certainly didn’t grow out of each other or we wouldn’t be here.” Bertholdt spat bitterly and flinched when Annie abruptly sat upright, eyes widening the moment he uttered those words. He was taken aback when she started chuckling. 

“Did the man I’m marrying in less than ten months just put it me on the same level as a guy he’s barely spoken to in years?” 

“Annie, that’s not-” Bertholdt started, feeling like slapping himself. He wrote for a living but he wasn’t as eloquent when it came to expressing himself in a conversation. 

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head in disbelief. She swung her legs over the bed and stomped towards the bathroom. Soon after, he heard the faucet running as she proceeded to take off the rosy-scented mask off her face. 

“Annie, I’m sorry. It’s really not what I meant.” Bertholdt said again in an effort to placate her. His efforts seemed fruitless the moment she reemerged into their bedroom, evidently fuming. 

“No, it’s cool. It’s nice to know I’m so high on your list of priorities, you know, being the woman whom you want to spend the rest of your life with. At least, I thought so.” 

“Come on, Annie. I’m really sorry.” Had he known it would’ve ended in them fighting, he wouldn’t have agreed to meet up with his friends in the first place. Cheap beer and greasy burgers weren’t worth this trouble. 

“I just don’t understand why you dislike him this much, when he’s been nothing but nice to us.” Bertholdt said, voice laced with frustration “I know we haven’t talked for the last few years but, we have history. I just think it’s nice if we tried to connect again.” 

“He has his own friends; he doesn’t need newer ones.” Annie answered mechanically from where she was stood near the dressing table, scrolling down at her phone without apparent interest. 

“I’m aware of that, Annie. And I’m genuinely happy he has such nice people in his life-” 

“Why do you care?” She interrupted him, snapping her gaze from the small screen in her hands. She didn’t look as livid as she was moments ago but, he could tell she was still irritated with his attitude. 

“I just...do, Annie.” Bertholdt answered, defeated “I can’t just snap my fingers and pretend I don’t give a shit about him like you easily did.” 

“You were just fine doing that for the last seven years.” She remarked, quietly. She didn’t seem angry anymore. Just, curious. He could deal with that. 

“I was just...busy.” Bertholdt sunk back in the pillows, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under her inquisitive gaze. “I was doing my own thing.” 

“Yeah, I was there, remember?” 

“Annie...” 

“You just seemed to forget about him all of a sudden.” Annie reflected “You know, you never mentioned him, not even once, ever since you went to see him in Connecticut.” Her brows knitted in confusion, as if she was trying to run the last three years of their life at top speed. 

Bertholdt closed his eyes, feeling suddenly lost for words at her statement. He didn’t want to think about that day. And he didn’t want to talk to Annie about it. 

A heavy silence settled between them. For a few minutes, all they could hear was their own breathing and the rain that was pattering on the window. Bertholdt felt himself lulled to sleep by the soothing sound. He couldn’t though – Annie was waiting for an explanation so, Bertholdt had no choice but give her one. 

“I guess... When I went there and saw him again after all those years, it just didn’t feel the same anymore.” He didn’t want to dive into details so, he opted for being vague instead. Technically, it wasn’t that far from the truth. 

“Did you fight?” 

“In a way, yes.” Annie cocked an eyebrow at him, as if urging him to explain more but, he couldn’t bring himself to. Thinking about it after all these years still made his head hurt. 

Annie was silent again and Bertholdt debated whether or not he should just turn off the light by his side and call it a night. He soon had an answer to his internal dilemma when Annie started talking again. 

“I’ll cut you a deal.” She put her phone back atop the dressing table before she walked towards their bed. Instead of getting under the covers, she sat on the far edge of her side. 

“What deal?” Bertholdt asked skeptically. 

“I don’t care if you want to hang out with him – I don’t own you and you can do whatever you want with whomever you want.” Annie said and Bertholdt felt his shoulders relax, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“But I won’t have him as the Best Man. He’ll get an invite to the wedding and that’s all.” She raised her index finger as if in warning. 

“Annie-” 

“It’s final.” She stated firmly, eyes set in a steely, hard stare “I’m the bride so my wish _will_ be respected.” She stated, matter of fact. 

“Do I get to choose who you could have as your bridesmaid?” 

“No, because it’s already done. You don’t have to give yourself an ulcer over it.” 

“Hmm. Even though I seem to recall that each soon-to-be-wed couple is made up of a bride and a groom, I can still move past it.” Bertholdt retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “So, who do I choose for my pillar of support on the best fucking day in my life?” 

“Thomas.” 

“Thomas.” He repeated dumbly. 

“Thomas Wagner; blond guy, tall, has nothing been but a supportive colleague when you were struggling to pitch anything to your publisher.” She shrugged, not seemingly relenting. 

Bertholdt treasured his friendship with Thomas. He’s had his back when he had hit his lowest point. But that was hardly the point. He simply couldn’t believe to what extent his fiance was willing to go, just to prove her point. 

“I’ll cut you a deal Annie – I won’t just nod meekly and do everything as you say because I’m in this just as much as you are. In fact, if I remember correctly, that’s what marriage is about – the whole thing being about _two_ people and not just one.” 

“Great. The bride has already a lot on her plate when she’s dealing with almost everything wedding-related on her own so, what’s one more thing to stress herself over?” Annie rose from her seat on the bed before she started angrily pacing the room. 

“Oh, now you’re under so much pressure because of the upcoming event? I seem to remember you wanted to settle for a dinner with a few family members before a quick trip to the Civil registry and call it a night.” 

“Yes, and I still stand by it.” Annie was just shy of shouting but, Bertholdt suspected his voice wasn’t any lower “New York is fucking expensive – something you don’t realize yet as you’ve only been living here for a week – And I still believe we shouldn’t have put over half of our savings, **together** , in some remote forest in Vermont for a three-night wedding.” 

“Yeah, forgive me if I wanted us to have a nice wedding to celebrate our holy union.” Bertholdt scoffed in response. 

“And people wonder who’s wearing the trousers in our relationship.” Annie spat sarcastically. Bertholdt wished that her catty remark was merely the product of his vivid imagination. 

“Oh, so if I was the one who wanted a thirty-minute wedding I would’ve been controlling and selfish. When I’m the one who wants to get married in a beautiful venue with a bit more than just six people top, then it’s considered less masculine of me. There’s really no winning this, isn’t it?” Bertholdt knew that the logical thing would’ve been to turn off the lights earlier and call it a night before things could get this heated. It was too late to back from this fight now and Bertholdt was determined to not be the one to concede defeat. 

“No, but it’s considered less gentlemanly when you’re such a bastard to me about something so trivial.” Annie hissed, not wanting to lose either. 

“Having a best man on one’s wedding isn’t a trivial matter.” Bertholdt observed in a low voice. 

“It fucking is when our marriage is supposed to be about _us being together for the rest of our fucking lives_.” Annie frantically shouted and just like that, Bertholdt felt that every will he had to argue with her had dissipated from his body. They were being idiots. Yes, it was normal for couples to freak out before the big day but, it was hardly an excuse to be callous to each other. 

“Annie...” 

“Save it.” She stood brusquely and marched the fewer steps to her side of the bed before she plopped down. She turned her back to him, the bed creaking loudly under the motion. 

Bertholdt sighed in exasperation. He just wanted to read for a bit before catching up some much-needed sleep. He definitely didn’t expect his usually boring night routine to turn this intense and aggravating. 

He turned off the lights before he settled back in his bed, knowing that he’ll be thinking about the last hour for at least another two before sleep could claim him. 

Bertholdt was thankful that he was done with writing his book or he wouldn’t have been able to sleep in. It was indeed Saturday but having to work from home as an author, he often had to set his alarm early for what was generally a day off for others. When the deadline to submit a first draft would be looming closer, he even had to wake up at five or even four on a Sunday and write until midnight. Today was no such day so, he decided to indulge himself and rest until it was nearing midday. 

He woke up to the sound of their blender going on from the kitchen. Bertholdt groaned audibly. It looked like Annie had already woken up, although, it looked like she struggled to get up earlier like he did. The noise went on for another, excruciating minute or so. Bertholdt was convinced then that he couldn’t go back to sleep any time soon. He sat up groggily, wincing immediately at the headache that was nearly splitting his head in half. He will miss being twenty when he used to get wasted on a Wednesday and wake up as if he hadn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol. He stretched his long body and rubbed his tired eyes in an effort to shake off the sleep from his body. He headed toward the bathroom and went about his business before he staggered on heavy feet to the kitchen. He spotted Annie stood by the countertop as she poured some red-colored juice into two mason jars. 

Bertholdt stood there unsure as to how to approach her about the previous night, his sluggish train of thoughts cut off as a yawn over took him. He winced in response feeling his already throbbing headache worsen. Right, he needed some Aspirin soon. Coffee too. 

“Hangover?” Annie asked nonchalantly from her spot before she turned to look at him. “Here. Works like magic.” She said before she handed him a glass filled with the carmine fluid she just concocted. 

“What’s this?” He asked, voice still hoarse with sleep. 

“A bloody Mary.” Annie replied in earnest before she brought her own glass to her lips, taking a large gulp. 

Bertholdt raised his glass and took a tentative swig before he broke into a fit of coughs. 

“With lots of Garlic. And Tabasco.” Annie added, not remotely apologetic. Bertholdt wondered if this was her way to have her revenge on him for the previous night. If it was the case, then she had definitely won – Bertholdt couldn’t think of a ghastlier punishment with the way his throat felt like it was set on fire. 

“I swear to god, you’ll find that Tabasco bottle one day in the trash can. Just watch me.” Bertholdt said in what he hoped was a threatening enough tone. He probably didn’t as his voice cracked, hoarser than it was moments ago. 

“You’re Mexican. How can you not like or tolerate anything spicy?” Annie asked in a playful tone. 

“ **Half** -Mexican. And that’s a stereotype and, borderline racist.” Bertholdt reprimanded her in a lighter tone. Maybe she wasn’t as mad as he thought her to be. 

“OK, my bad.” She murmured sheepishly “Come on, I swear it gets better over time.” 

Bertholdt arched a skeptical eyebrow at her before deciding to take her for her word. He brought the glass back to his lips again and chugged almost half of his drink before he brought the glass down again. He nearly gagged and those were definitely tears burning at his eyes. 

“No, it doesn’t.” He uttered with finality before he set down the repulsive drink back on the countertop “I’ll just do it the classic way.” He filled another glass with tap water and downed it in one go, feeling slightly better. He moved then to make himself a cup of coffee, before swallowing two painkillers. 

“Amateur.” Annie sniggered before she took another sip, not looking remotely disgusted with the dreadful taste. 

“Listen, Annie...” Bertholdt began carefully, before he went quiet again. Silence soon settled between them save for the gurgling of the coffee machine as it came to live. “I’m-” 

“I’m sorry.” Annie interrupted, looking suddenly smaller with her shoulders slumping “I called you a bastard but I behaved like one too.” 

“Annie-” Bertholdt said again, stopping abruptly when Annie raised her hand “Let me finish.” She took a deep breath as if trying to cautiously choose her next words “I didn’t have the right to lecture you on who you should be friends with and who you shouldn’t. I said I didn’t own you and I really meant it – That's not how relationships work and I believe that we’ve managed to be respectful of each other’s wishes so far. I like that we work so well together and I don’t want us to lose that.” She said honestly before she took another sip from her drink, and resuming shortly after “The whole ‘respect the bride thing’ was complete bullshit so, I take it back. I don’t want us to be those kinds of couples.” She smiled at him apologetically, Bertholdt mirroring hers with a smaller one of his own “So, if you want Reiner to be your best man, then I’ll be cool with it. It’s only fair _you_ choose your own guy.” She finally acquiesced before looking at him expectantly. Bertholdt sighed, suddenly feeling ridiculous for having made such a huge fuss over nothing in the end. 

“I wasn’t even going to ask him to.” Bertholdt said, shaking his head as he did so “And I don’t think he even expected me to. Like I said, I think he was just being nice.” It was only half the truth about the reason for which he thought that Reiner would’ve declined. Bertholdt doubted he would even come to their wedding even if they both begged him to. He didn’t want to trouble Annie with that now though. Or ever, if he was being honest to himself. 

“Why not?” Annie asked tentatively. Bertholdt shrugged “I just didn’t think that far frankly. Plus, like you said – Thomas is the obvious choice.” 

“I guess he is. I’m fine with either, Bertholdt, really.” Annie tried to reassure him and Bertholdt appreciated that she looked genuine about her offer. 

“I just didn’t understand why you were so adamant about not wanting Reiner to be that.” Bertholdt wondered and noted the way she seemed to tense at his observation. He watched her swirl the remaining liquid in her glass, staring attentively as it sloshed in its confinement. 

“Maybe I wasn’t as chill about the whole encounter with him as I thought I was. I called him insane but I think I acted just as paranoid.” Annie admitted in a small voice “I guess I was just scared he’d try to embarrass me in front of my dad and my friends or say some outrageous things about me. I was just trying to make sure it didn’t happen but, I was just being crazy. He’s a nice guy and he has known us for so long now.” 

“Then why did you think he would do that?” He asked her, baffled. Annie didn’t seem to hate their friend’s guts like she pretended to yesterday. 

“Bertholdt, he was our friend and we cut him off. You said so yourself, remember?” 

Yes, he did, because those were his own words that he had thrown at Annie in order to defend his childhood friend. Frankly, Bertholdt was astonished Reiner didn’t pretend that he didn’t know them when he first saw them. He was even taken-off guard by how kind and sweet he was to people like him and Annie. 

Bertholdt pinched the bridge of his nose, as he felt his headache exacerbate. He needed coffee in him, soon. 

“That’s why, I was thinking maybe we could invite him over for dinner some day?” Annie suggested hopefully and Bertholdt wondered how did he make her fall in love with him in the first place. She was just perfect. 

“I guess it would be nice.” Bertholdt agreed, feeling himself relax for the first time ever since he stepped inside their apartment the previous night. 

“But I’m kicking him out if he ever makes a remark about how short I am compared to you giants.” Annie warned, although her playful tone didn’t indicate she was serious about her threat. 

“Fair enough.” 

Later that afternoon, Bertholdt was seated in front of their fire place, the book he had been reading long abandoned on his lap. He had been staring fixedly at his phone for the last thirty minutes. His thumb hovered over Reiner’s name on his contact list. He could never bring himself to delete his number from his phone despite coming close to on many occasions. Bracing himself, he tapped the “call” icon before he brought the device to his ear. His heart threatened to jump from his chest, as he listened to it ring for a few times before the person on the other end of the line finally picked up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just LOVE writing Bertholdt.


	11. Chapter 11

**Reiner**

Reiner was sitting comfortably on the sofa, a _Mad Men_ episode playing on the TV while he stared at his laptop. He was browsing through the Manhattan middle school Math curriculum for the grade Seven and Nine, while taking notes on his yellow legal pad what topics he needed to revise. He will only have to teach Geometry and Algebra since Precalculus and Trigonometry weren’t taught until the Eleventh grade. Too bad – Despite being passionate about all various branches of Mathematics, he vastly preferred Precalculus and Calculus but, he guessed he was in no place to be picky. He should be thankful they were offering him this job. Frankly, Reiner was grateful for the opportunity and even though he had grown accustomed to his job at McGee's, this teaching career, albeit temporary, certainly felt like a breath of fresh air. At least he hoped it would be, if the kids in his two classes didn’t make his life harder. As he inspected their previous teacher’s profile and intimidatingly detailed academic achievements, Reiner rightfully cowered with his solitary Bachelor’s degree. And of course, he couldn’t forget the age factor. Mr. Scott was way older than he was and, it was almost common knowledge that younger students weren’t prone to be as disciplined around teachers his age like they would be around the likes of the veteran instructor. Pieck’s first days as a teacher had been a horrid experience as she struggled to get them to behave. Her very first day at school was traumatizing enough that her face crumbled as soon as she stepped inside the house, before she burst into tears. Reiner immediately flew to her side then and cradled her tiny frame in his arms while her body quaked with frantic sobs. He felt shaken himself at the sight of her falling apart when she was usually the most composed one between the two of them. Reiner admired her so much for her strong resolve and often calm demeanor but, he guessed everyone had their breaking point. Pieck seemed to have reached hers after she spent the first fifteen minutes of her day enduring her students’ unjust mockery of every word she uttered before they started throwing crumpled sheets of paper at her face. Threatening to get "each one of them kicked out of school" didn't lead anywhere. It took her a hot cup of Licorice tea – Her favorite comfort beverage after Scotch – and her favorite season of _Friends_ as they snuggled on the couch, with him running his fingers through her soft locks before she recounted in a small voice her misfortune. At some point during her breakdown, she swore she wouldn’t go back to school after what had happened. Reiner managed to get through to her then by reminding her that for as long as he had known her, there never was a time that she didn’t eventually surmount any hardship she faced. He even suggested they browse through some forums about other teachers who’ve had the same experience as she did. He watched with fond adoration as she scribbled furiously on her iPad what measurements most instructors found efficient. Pieck soon became immersed in the task at hand, as she had countless opened tabs on her navigator and scrolled through the different, sometimes outrageous, first day mishaps. They both finally agreed that High school students seemed more creative and by consequence, crueler when they set their minds on making their new teacher’s experience, by all definitions, hellacious. Pieck was relieved upon learning that she wasn’t as unfortunate as some of her colleagues were since she was dealing with younger students and now, Reiner felt the same. The following day, Reiner made sure to get up early and cook her his blueberry and lemon pancakes in order to boost her mood. It earned him a grateful hug and a quick peck on the cheek before Pieck wolfed her breakfast, seeming even more nervous than she was the day prior. Obviously, her methods didn’t work out as instantly as they both wished it would but gradually, Pieck earned the respect and later, even the admiration of her pupils. Two years later, Miss. Finger not only became the kind of teacher who easily captivated teenagers with her zealous speeches about feminism through progressive writings from Virginia Woolf and Jhumpa Lahiri, but also a trustworthy advisor whom students often turned to when facing certain difficulties during their learning experience. Reiner couldn’t have been any prouder for how far his best friend had come since her first uneventful day as a teacher. He hoped he could one day be as savvy and respected as she is. 

A quick glance at his predecessor’s picture made Reiner groan loudly before he lowered his face in his palms. Pieck mentioned that Mr. Scott offered his resignation so he could take care of his sickly wife. He could also recall her saying that the latter probably had cancer. So, not only was the previous Math teacher more experienced than he was, he forsook his career for a loved one. Reiner couldn’t stand a chance if he tried to compare to that and he wondered how his students would perceive him. He dreaded to be some bartender from a stinky pub trying to step in their teachers’ shoes. 

Reiner swore under his breath. He started absentmindedly running his hair through his flaxen locks in frustration. What the hell was he thinking? There was no way in hell he could do this! Pieck is a _sadist_ for proposing this in the first place and he’d been too upset and needed some distraction. He couldn’t do this and he certainly needed to- 

“Reiner?” 

Pieck’s voice startled him and Reiner jumped at her sudden appearance, knocking his computer off his lap. He thankfully caught it before it hit the floor, and exhaled in relief at his fast reflexes. 

“What are you doing?” His roommate asked again, voice laced with genuine curiosity. 

“Panicking. But I’ve been looking at the Math curriculum at your school before I realized ' _Who the fuck am I kidding, I can’t do this’_ hence, panicking.” Reiner explained slowly before he turned to look at her “Listen, I’m really grateful for the offer but, I really, really can’t do it. I’m not fit for the job, Pieck.” Reiner said grimly. Pieck’s shoulders slumped in response and sighed loudly. She proceeded then to shrug off her coat. 

“It’s two in the morning.” She told him warily while she threw her clothes haphazardly at the top of a growing pile of her jackets and blazers by the door. Reiner resisted the urge to remind her what a coat rack was for. 

“I just couldn’t fall asleep.” Reiner shrugged in faux-nonchalance. Technically, it wasn’t even a lie. He just didn’t dive into the reason for which he believed sleep wouldn’t claim his body this particular night. 

“Why is that? Did you run out of your sleeping pills?” Pieck cocked her head in question. 

“No, but I took a nap during the day.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Pieck frowned at his statement “You’ve been watching that stupid reality show on Netflix since eight in the morning while demolishing half of our stock of Cheetos.” 

“OK, but a) _Too Hot to Handle_ is an entertaining piece of art where you suddenly don’t realize you’ve consumed fourteen hours of in the course of two days and b) we ran out of Cheetos.” Reiner said sheepishly. 

“Forgive me if I don’t relate since I couldn’t make it past the first fifteen minutes. They totally lost me the moment Not-Ciri started telling them they couldn’t _smash_.” Pieck retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Her name is Lana and that was exactly when the plot started!” Reiner exclaimed in mock-offense at his roommate’s dismissive remark. He guessed nobody in his circle of friends shared his enthusiasm about Reality TV. After all, he couldn’t get her or Porco hooked on _Love is Blind_ or _Love island_ before that. 

“Oh, it has a plot now? They couldn’t make those fake gasps of shock look any credible even if they tried to.” His friend observed, wryly. Reiner sighed in exasperation. 

“Well, to each their taste.” 

“Reiner, stop digressing from the subject. Please.” Pieck kicked off her heels, sighing in relief as soon as her feet touched their wooden floor. 

“You mean, I should start panicking again about my defective attributes to deal with teenagers? Because I think just started to by simply mentioning it again.” 

“Reiner, where did you disappear to?” Pieck finally said, having visibly grown tired of his meticulous efforts to dodge the inevitable question he knew she’d ask as soon as he spotted her figure by the door. 

“I just went for a walk then came back home.” Reiner purposefully neglected mentioning the hooking-up with a stranger part. He didn’t want to give her one more subject to relentlessly interrogate him about. 

“You’re supposed to be on a shift now.” Pieck arched an eyebrow at him. 

“Cindy told me to go home and that she’ll cover for me. Place wasn’t as packed as it usually was on Friday.” More and more lies, even if it was merely by omission. Reiner wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if she was a stranger but, he always felt guilty every time he had to deceive his best friend. It was for her own sake, he often had to remind himself, and to preserve his own sanity. 

“Carl was working too because Cindy couldn’t manage on her own.” Pieck uttered quietly, the implication that she knew he was blatantly lying to her feeling like a bucket of ice was thrown at his face. He wondered how much longer it would be until she realized he wasn’t worth her time. 

“I guess both Cindy _and_ Carl didn’t think I was fit to work tonight.” Reiner opted to say the truth in an effort to soothe her “I’ve been breaking glasses more often than once – you've seen it – because I’ve been struggling to stay focused during work. I’m...having trouble sleeping.” He said genuinely and noted the way panic flashed through her eyes. 

She walked in hesitant steps and stood beside the sofa. She wrung her hands in a nervous gesture as if debating whether or not to go through with her next train of questioning while stood up or comfortably seated. She eventually settled for sitting down next to him. She took a deep breath before she began in a careful voice. 

“Reiner, I want you to answer me honestly.” She went silent again, as if trying to brace herself for his reply “Are you off your Lithium?” 

Reiner sighed loudly in annoyance. He certainly wasn’t ready for this particular conversation. 

“No, I’m not.” He answered honestly but, he had an inkling she didn’t believe him. 

“Because ever since Bertholdt and Annie came you... you weren’t yourself. You injured your hand and you were talking a mile a minute. Pock and I, no, even Cindy thought-” 

“That I was having a manic episode.” Reiner finished for her, not missing the way she flinched at his harsh tone. He wasn’t going to do any studying anyway since it was this late at night so he slammed the lid of his laptop shut. 

“Are you?” Pieck asked cautiously, clenching her fists in her lap in evident panic. 

“Why don’t _you_ tell me? Since you’re such an expert.” Reiner cocked his head, daring her to humor him. 

“Well, you’ve actually been-” 

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Reiner shook his head in disbelief, chuckling despite his irritation “You trying to play psychiatrists now or what?” 

“Reiner, I’m just worried about you. Cindy looked shaken when she came to me wondering whether or not you were taking your meds and I genuinely had no idea-” 

“Remind me again why fucking Cindy knows I’m fucking bipolar?” Reiner snarled at her and was disappointed that Pieck didn’t recoil at his aggressive attitude. In fact, she looked really composed, determined as she was to get the truth from him. 

“Because you didn’t turn up for work for a whole week when you had an episode last year, remember?” Pieck reminded him in a measured tone. Reiner hated her so much at that moment for bringing it up “You had to give a legit justification to your absenteeism so Carl would give you your job back. I even went with you to beg him that he’d understand and forgive you.” 

“Yeah, sorry you had to stoop that low to help your closest friend.” Reiner spat bitterly “If I’m such a bother to you, why are you still talking to me?” If he pushed her away then she would leave, like everyone else did. 

“Because you’re my best friend and I’d never leave you!” 

“Well you’re not acting as one! Neither you nor Porco or anyone else!” Reiner was frantically shouting at her and this time he felt bitter satisfaction when he saw hurt cross her eyes “You’re not my therapist or my parent either so, why are you treating me with kid gloves?” He felt unshed tears burn at the corners of his eyes. He was so exhausted with everyone tiptoeing around his feelings and he wished that last year didn’t happen or he wouldn’t be having this aggravating discussion in the middle of the night. 

“I just want to make sure you’re alright because you didn’t seem remotely OK tonight, Reiner! Even Bertholdt could tell-” 

“Oh, so he fucking knows now I’m that poor guy with a mental illness like everyone thinks I am?” His heart started racing at the thought of him being the subject of their gossip as they teared at his own person over their cheap drinks. 

“No-” Pieck shook her head violently, wincing as the motion seemed to make her head throb. 

“Did you tell him I’m bipolar?” He needed to make sure he didn’t give Bertholdt another reason to be ashamed for having known him. 

“No! Why would I tell him that? For the love of god, I just don’t go around spreading your secrets like you seem to think I do!” Pieck was visibly offended at his accusation but, he was in no state of mind to be mindful of her feelings. 

“Oh yes, because being mentally ill is a badge of shame one should carry with themselves to the grave.” 

“Oh my god, you _just_ said – Why do you do this? Why does everything have to be black or white?” Pieck stood up now, and he could see tears forming in her eyes. He felt a pang of guilt for upsetting her but, he was too stubborn to relent. 

“Because I’m batshit crazy, remember?” 

“No, Reiner. And nobody thinks that.” Pieck breathed, voice cracking. She swiped with her sleeves the treacherous tears that dripped down her cheeks “I don’t know what I have to do to make you believe me.” She said finally, gazing at him tenderly in a hope to placate him. 

“My dad did. And he left me.” Reiner said, void devoid of emotion. Not one day will go by without him remembering the sting of that betrayal. 

“Your dad is a bastard and, you didn’t deserve him.” Pieck tried to reassure him and he wished he could believe her. 

“Well, I guess I really didn’t deserve a father and it looks like I certainly don’t deserve friends either.” 

“How can you say that?” Pieck said incredulously, no longer minding the tears flowing freely down her face “After all these years, I stood by your side and I’ve been there for you through thick and thin. How can you say that I’m not your friend?” 

“If you were my friend, you would’ve talked and listened to me.” Reiner replied, coldly. He wanted to flee. He couldn’t stand looking at her. 

“I tried to-” Pieck began before Reiner cut her short, shaking his head. 

“If you did then you would’ve known that I wasn’t having an episode. I was just upset that the friends that pretended for years that I didn’t exist the moment I moved to New York were getting married without intending to tell me.” Reiner added, suddenly saddened as the emotions he tried desperately to push down were bubbling back to the surface “If you hadn’t ran into Bertholdt that day, I wouldn’t even have known about him moving and, in three years or so, I might’ve run into him while he was carrying his kid in a stroller.” He closed his eyes feeling the exhaustion from the evening prior catch up abruptly to him. 

“Reiner...” Pieck walked toward him but, he didn’t want her to comfort him. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He turned his back to her and retreated to his bedroom, signaling the end of their conversation. He closed the door behind him, hearing it click softy, the sound suddenly too loud in the otherwise silent apartment. He slid down its surface to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes, the recent events replaying on the front of his mind and before he realized it, he fell into a dreamless slumber. 

Reiner cursed himself as soon as he blinked his eyes open, the searing pain shooting through his back like electricity and, for a moment he struggled to even breathe. He fell against his bedroom’s door asleep the previous night and it looked like he was going to pay the price heavily and painfully for being so reckless. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid but, he was now too old to get away without any damage to his back. 

He inhaled and exhaled deeply for a few minutes before he tried to stand on his feet, wincing as soon as he did. He staggered to his drawer and rummaged through his numerous pills for some Ibuprofen. He swallowed two with some water and stared down at the Tylenol bottle for a minute, debating whether or not he should take two in addition. He decided to pop two from the red container before he collapsed face first on the mattress, sighing in relief as soon as his body was in a horizontal position for the first time in almost twelve hours. 

He must have dozed off for an hour or two before he was woken up by the sound of soft knocking on his door. He stirred in his bed, noting with satisfaction how his back ached way less than before. 

“Come in.” He rasped groggily and soon after, the door was pulled open revealing his roommate clad in her Christmas onesie – a gift from him for which she had squealed in joy upon receiving. 

“Hey.” She mumbled weakly and despite the dimness of his room, he noticed her puffy eyes and wished it was only from sleep. 

“Hey.” He replied, voice still hoarse from sleep. 

They were both silent for a few awkward moments, neither knowing how to approach the other about the previous night. Pieck seemed to have made up her mind quicker than he did. 

“I’m sorry.” She said, voice barely above a whisper “’For being so inconsiderate yesterday. I shouldn’t have come off so accusing and should've asked you how you were feeling instead.” She apologized sincerely. 

“I’m sorry too. I hurt you when you’ve been nothing but kind to me. I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it.” Yesterday’s events seemed like such a distant memory. He wanted to just move past it. 

“We both were.” 

“True.” They both chuckled lightly at their admission. Pieck moved from her spot by the door to sit on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping softly under her small weight. 

“I promise I’ll listen to you, if you ever want to talk to me.” She started again, and Reiner felt relief wash over him at her honest words. 

“I’m so happy you’re my friend. I really am, Pieck.” He wished so badly he could take back his hurtful words from yesterday but, the best he could do now was reassure her how much she meant to him. 

“I’m glad you’re my friend too.” She said in return, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“Friends?” He reached with his hand to hers, hopeful. 

“Always.” She took his offered hand and let him cradle her smaller one in his bigger one. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand in soothing circles. 

“So, coming up for breakfast anytime soon?” Pieck said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence that settled between them. 

“Doubtful. My back is acting up again so, I don’t think I’ll be able to move from this spot until evening.” He winced again when he tried to move. Pieck didn’t need further evidence for his obvious pain. 

“I’ll make you something. Coffee, no sugar, right?” She asked, before she rose from her seat and made her way towards the door. 

“Yes, please. And can you bring me my laptop on your way?” 

“Righty-o.” Pieck said in affirmation before she disappeared into the hallway. 

He spent the remaining hours of his day laying comfortably in bed and watching the remaining episode of _Too Hot to Handle_ , rolling his eyes each time Pieck made a snarky comment at his choice of TV shows. He barely noticed the hours flying by until his phone started vibrating from its spot on his nightstand. He reached blindly for it; his eyes still glued to the screen of his computer before he glanced quickly at his cellphone. An unknown number was displayed on the screen and Reiner debated whether or not he should turn his phone to silent. After the fifth ring, he resigned himself to his fate and swiped the green icon to the right before he brought the device to his ear. 

“Go for Reiner Braun.” 

The other end of the line was silent for a few moments. Reiner would’ve thought the caller had hung up on him if it wasn’t for his quickened breathing on the other end. 

“Reiner.” A familiar voice he’d recognize its owner anywhere uttered finally and Reiner felt his heart sink in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t understand then how he had the strength to not drop his own phone from his hand or how he even managed to answer his caller in a relatively steadier than expected voice. 

“Bertholdt?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all expected the phone call between R&B but I needed to do this first :<


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Implied underage sex mention.

**Bertholdt**

If Bertholdt could compare the seconds during which he waited for Reiner to pick up the phone, he would say they were just as seemingly infinite and harrowing as it was to wait for his publisher's approval of his first novel. His heart raced at the speed of ten miles a minute, he was sweating profusely–a regular condition of his that would worsen ten folds under stressful circumstances–and he was certain his hands were trembling. An egotistical part of him wanted to believe it would only take Reiner one ring before he’d rush for his phone as soon as he’d perceive Bertholdt’s contact ID displayed on his screen. But then, he remembered that Reiner didn’t have his current number and that even if he did, he’d make sure that Bertholdt would sit through the agony of waiting. That was if he even decided to pick up. 

Right, who was he kidding? There was no way in earth his once upon a very long-time best friend would accept to ever talk to him after what he’d put him through. Friday evening was just a fluke, and maybe Reiner’s kindness and polite nature did in fact stop him from being brutally honest and treat him the way he ought to. Yet, he knew Reiner had been too upset when he had seen him and Annie no matter how desperately he had tried to prove the opposite. He'd long memorized every twitch of the muscles around his eyes, furrow of his brows and slack of his shoulders to pick up on any sign of distress his friend might be feeling. At least, he did when they were younger. He knew Reiner like he knew the back of his own hand and he had learnt by heart each of his quirks to know when he was giddy with joy and when he was paralyzed with sorrow and chagrin. So, as much as he tried to believe Reiner’s act of nonchalance and even happiness, he couldn’t. The cracks in his facade were too obvious and he knew the guy for too long to not have learnt to perceive those, as invisible and indiscernible as they could get sometimes. It had once brought him comfort that he understood him when most couldn’t but now, it was simply excruciating when he knew he couldn’t offer any solace without being shoved away and rejected. Bertholdt deserved it frankly, the thought nagged at him insistently more than once that evening despite his fruitless attempts to ground himself to his surroundings and focus on whatever trivial matters his friends jabbered about. He couldn’t blame Reiner if he eventually decided that he wanted nothing to do with him, ever. Why would he hold any grudge against him for it when he had beat him to it first and cut him off in all those years? Truth be told, Bertholdt still couldn’t believe his childhood friend had been too civil, too _nice,_ to accept his presence again without any justified objection. He’s waited, fretful, all evening, for him to snap and deliver to him what he deserved. Bertholdt waited and waited, but Reiner gave him nothing. Just... nothing. He realized then that it was an appropriate punishment for his callous behavior towards him for the last seven years. Reiner no longer cared enough about his existence to even be angry. He had deemed lashing out at him or punching square in the jaw was merely a waste of his precious time which he’d rather spend it on people who mattered to him. And he had two of those; two smart, kind and caring friends who had been there for him every second of his life when Bertholdt hadn’t. And it showed–he tried his best to conceal how much he didn’t worry about Reiner’s glaring disconcert at his presence then but, Porco and Pieck didn’t think twice to express their concern. Their fidgeting in their seats, frequent glances toward their friend and their panic-stricken faces as they realized their friends’ abrupt disappearance from the bar were a dead-give-away. Pieck excused herself promptly as soon as she noted the change in staff and clambered off her seat on staggering steps to look for her roommate to no avail. She did seem to grow even more anxious after talking to his colleague and Bertholdt didn’t miss the way she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts for the rest of their night-out. Bertholdt wanted, on more than one occasion, to ask her what she knew about whatever had happened to Reiner that he had to leave his shift after having worked for three hours tops but, he just couldn't muster enough courage to. He'd been too worried that Pieck would snap at him before she would point out the obvious. _Don’t you see_ , she’d ask him incredulously then, _he couldn’t bear the sight of you so he had to leave._

He knew he was being ridiculous and even delusional to think that Reiner’s own discomfort revolved around him. But its unlikely possibility pained him, yet also brought him a strange sense of comfort. He hopelessly wanted–no, _needed_ –to know that he still mattered to Reiner, even if Bertholdt hadn’t been exactly the best at showing the same for him. He had long forgotten what it was like to have Reiner in his life. He had built himself a steady life and he could easily picture himself living a happier, peaceful one at the prospect of his career finally taking off but also as he prepared to spend the rest of his life with the woman he cherished and loved the most. It took him one faithful encounter at a coffee shop in Manhattan that he had needed to make a stop at a week earlier when he went to meet with his publisher, that led to an eventful evening where he met the man his brain had long since blurred his features in the rarest times he tried to conjure up his memory, for him to realize that his life had been incomplete so far. He was happy with Annie and excited at the notion of being married and perhaps raising kids together but, he wanted Reiner to be part of his world too. Again. It had never crossed his mind before that he would ever need to see the flaxen-haired man but now that he had, he couldn’t fathom how he had ever thought he didn’t need his friendship. He desperately longed for it now that he had been reminded how much he cherished the bond they had, the same way he prayed for Annie’s “Yes” as he went down on one knee asking her if she could have him, and it was exactly the same hope for his novel to be finally published so he could leave his own mark in this world. He now had one more desire, as selfish as it made him look. He wanted Reiner to say “Yes” if he asked him to be his pal again. 

He'd understand if he said no. He'd understand if he’d laugh at his face before he’d remind him of the inexhaustible reasons for which he found him conceited and deluded. He'd accept his rejection even if it would leave a gaping hole in his heart for the remaining of his days. It would be the cross he will have to bear as a divine judgment for forsaking the one friend that he swore one day he’d never, ever leave. He lied to his face. He gave up on him. He left him so, humiliation and ridicule were a fit reward for his cruelty. 

As the seconds stretched into a minute while he waited with anguish for Reiner to answer, Bertholdt reflected on Annie’s words. He shouldn’t get his hopes so high. He and Annie had been his friends for years, and he had known Reiner for longer before, ever since Kindergarten. It would’ve been realistic to expect him to loath their guts and demand he never sees their faces again. If they’d ever wanted him on their special day, it would’ve been only fair that he’d make it the worst for them. Reiner had maybe pretended to be nice to them so he wouldn’t disappoint his friends. Hell, maybe Pieck and Porco begged him that he doesn’t so his plastic smile and forced jests had been a favor he did for them. 

And perhaps if Reiner had missed his chance to give Bertholdt a piece of his mind, then this phone call was a golden opportunity for what he had missed on Friday. In his own self-loathing spiraling, Bertholdt didn’t find the idea of that particular scenario happening as unappealing as he should’ve. He wondered what it could be have of his sense of self-worth and respect. 

He didn’t want to think about it now, despite knowing the obvious answer. 

Maybe, Bertholdt should just grit his teeth and sit through the shame of his oldest friend’s snide yet fairly merited remarks before he’d abruptly hang up on him and block his number for good. 

The click that indicated that the person on the other end of the line had finally picked up would soon give him the answers he sought. 

“Go for Reiner Braun.” The other man mumbled, sounding distracted, and Bertholdt’s breath hitched in his throat. This had been the second time Reiner had addressed him directly, the first being when he had greeted him at the bar. For a brief moment, Bertholdt was tempted to tap the red icon on his phone and end the call, the mere sentence he had heard earlier feeling satisfying enough to last him a lifetime. He didn’t need to hear him shout at him; he could just have him talk to him in a neutral tone even if he didn’t know who he was. 

Bertholdt could hear some people talking in the background and he wondered if Reiner had company and that he was disturbing him. The urge to withdraw and hang up on him became ever so strong. Yet, he didn’t know how he found the strength to repress it. Perhaps, despite all the odds and doubts, wanting Reiner back made him braver that he considered himself to be? 

“Reiner.” He said in response, momentarily thrown-off by the way his own voice sounded so clear and confident, despite his apprehensive mindset. 

There was a pregnant pause, during which Bertholdt feared that Reiner had hang up on him like he feared he would. He briefly lowered his phone and checked if he had been right. Nope, line still connected. 

“Bertholdt?” Reiner breathed reluctantly. 

“Yes,” Bertholdt said quickly, relief washing over him as he realized that perhaps Reiner had deemed him worthy of his time after all “It’s me... This is, uh, my new number.” 

“OK...” He sounded... distant. Off even. Even though he couldn’t see him, Bertholdt could perfectly picture his expression. It would be the same vacant gaze he’d sometimes have. His eyes would look empty and he’d cease to talk suddenly, as if he was no longer part of this world. Bertholdt thought back to the time Reiner made that exact face when he learnt of his father’s departure one day when he was nine. He'd come to him one rainy night in the middle of the week and knocked at his bedroom’s window, rousing Bertholdt from his slumber. He was drenched to his undergarments and his skin was icy-cold to the touch but, his body didn’t tremble. He'd delivered the news that his mother had dropped on him moments ago when he could no longer believe that his father had simply gone for an errand for the last forty-eight hours, before he went silent again. He looked like he was in some faraway place Bertholdt wasn’t privy to and it scared him. He could’ve dealt with Reiner if he burst into tears, hurt because of his father’s betrayal. He could’ve known what to do if his best pal had a panic attack and would’ve tried his best to ground him to the present and help alleviate his fear. But he was utterly helpless when Reiner stood there motionless before he asked him in a small voice if he could sleep over. Bertholdt had given him a change of dryer clothes that didn’t fit him properly as he shrugged off his own soaking wet ones, before they silently went to bed. He knew they were too old to hold each other like they used to do when they were in kindergarten but Bertholdt wanted desperately to comfort him and, Reiner had always craved physical contact ever since he was a little boy. 

Reiner didn’t return his embrace then but, he didn’t push him away. 

He saw him act that way again when they were high school freshmen. Reiner had texted him then at five in the morning asking him to pick him up almost outside of their town. Bertholdt tiptoed downstairs then and picked up his father’s car keys. He was certain they had woken when the engine shook to life, his sleep-hazed brain forgetting that both of his parents were on sleep aids. 

Reiner was stood by himself by the road, gaze distant and face impassive. It took him a few moments before he registered Bertholdt’s arrival despite the car light’s flashing in his direction. He climbed inside silently, and Bertholdt took in the fresh hickey on his neck. Reiner gave him short, non-committal answers to his measured questions as Bertholdt tried to make sure that nothing had happened that his friend wasn’t OK with. His voice sounded oddly husky and for a moment, Bertholdt thought he was on the verge of crying. He didn’t. He never did, at least not in front of him. 

He had always looked that particular way and sounded as detached as he did in this moment and it filled Bertholdt with unshakable dread. 

“Reiner, are you OK?” He couldn’t help but ask, as his mind quickly associated that particular tone of his voice with every troubling event that has happened in the past. 

He was quiet for a moment and for the umpteenth time in Bertholdt’s life, he wondered if his friend was having a panic attack unbeknownst to him. His cousin Madeleine had anxiety and he had witnessed numerous ones of hers. He had seen her shaking and hyperventilating. He had heard her frantically shout that her heart was going to stop and that she was going to die or lose control of her mind and body. Reiner did none of the above as far as Bertholdt could remember. But then again, he read once that panic attacks didn’t look the same and varied from an individual to another. 

“Yes. Yes. I’m-I’m fine.” Reiner stammered after a while as if he only now regained his ability of speech “I was, uh, reading an email Porco just sent me. I was just distracted, sorry.” He chuckled nervously and Bertholdt wished he could take him for his word. Unfortunately, he knew him too well and for so long to not realize he was lying. 

“So, everything OK?” Reiner says again, his voice regaining his usual composure albeit with forced cheerfulness. 

He had been offended at Annie the previous day when she called Reiner “insane” but, Bertholdt had to admit, although bitterly, that he could maybe understand why she did. After all, people often referred to whatever behavior they didn’t understand from another human as madness. Annie, as smart and thoughtful as she often was, was unfortunately no exception. 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Bertholdt replied, cringing mentally at his own awkwardness “You know, chilling on Saturday. What have you been up to?” It’s alright, he could to with some small talk. A small gain in case Reiner decides he’d had enough of him and put an end to their conversation. 

“Same. Chilling.” Awkward small talk then. He'll still take what he can have. 

“Good. Erm, fantastic.” Count on Bertholdt to make an awkward conversation even more awkward. 

A heavy silence settled between them and Bertholdt debated for a while whether he should just congratulate himself for the progress that he had made in smoothing things over with his old friend. Baby steps are still just as important so, maybe he should just end this call? 

“Listen, erm.” Bertholdt felt disappointment settle in the pit of his stomach as he thought of what he wanted to do seconds ago. He had always been a coward and had let down Reiner more often than once and he was just about to do that. When would ever be the appropriate time for him to man up and change that? If not now, then when? 

“Annie and I want you to come over for Dinner one of these days. I’ll-I’ll make something. You can tell me what you like and I’ll google it.” You absolute...doofus. 

“Cool, cool. Call me.” Reiner replied as if on autopilot, his voice no longer as cheerful as it sounded earlier, even if it was mere pretense. 

“Yeah, yeah. I will.” 

They were silent again and this time Bertholdt was sure it was the right time to bid each other goodbye and go back to their mundane, boring “chilling”. 

“Alright, then. See you soon.” Reiner said after a while, seeming to have read his mind. 

No, no. Not yet. 

“How about tomorrow?” Bertholdt blurted before he could think better of it. 

“Sorry?” Reiner asked quizzically seemingly taken off-guard at Bertholdt’s proposal. 

“Not the dinner thing. We still have a lot to unpack so the place is a mess. Even after a week. We’re actually really busy.” Bertholdt rambled on before he took a deep breath as he braced himself for what he was going to say next “Coffee, tomorrow. I know a nice café and we could meet up there?” He asked hopefully, and the next seconds seemed even longer than the ones he had waited for Reiner to pick up the phone five minutes ago. 

“Oh.” Reiner said, and Bertholdt felt his heart sink “I don’t know. I’ve got some reading to do.” A fancy way to tell him to fuck off. 

“How about Saturday. Do you have plans?” Nope, he wasn’t going to give up, not this time. 

“No but, I don’t know.” Reiner didn’t seem to like the idea of them being alone together or talking for longer than a five-minute phone call. Maybe it was his cue to just get off the phone and be happy with what he got. He did get him to agree to come over for Dinner after all and that in itself was a huge win. 

“Change your mind.” Bertholdt blurted before he could think it over. He closed his eyes as he prayed to every god that Reiner would just do that. 

Bertholdt never knew how much he had missed hearing Reiner laugh until he heard it then. Not any kind of laughter, not the forced one as he’d try to be polite and considerate when hearing a dumb joke. But a heartfelt one, directed solely at him and for something Bertholdt had said that made him feel joyous, as brief as it was. He missed it. He never treasured it enough when he was privy to it in his younger days but, now he wanted it again. He wanted to make Reiner smile and laugh more. 

“Alright, Saturday then.” Reiner said, his tone still light and Bertholdt couldn’t help but chuckle in relief. 

“Great! I’ll text you the address.” Bertholdt was grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of spending time with his friend without him being hindered with work. 

“OK.” 

“See you then?” 

“Until then.” And with that, the line went dead but, Bertholdt didn’t mind it as much. 

A lot of good things seemed to happen to him in the last couple of years and Bertholdt had often believed that he was happy enough to last him for a lifetime. Yet, every time he was astounded to know that the universe still had more things in store for him. 

The possibility of getting a clean slate with Reiner and build their friendship all over again was definitely something he was grateful that the world decided to offer him and this time, he’ll make sure to cherish it. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my faithful readings for leaving such lovely comments. Here's a new update! Enjoy xx

**Bertholdt**

Not for the first time, Bertholdt felt like time was moving slowly. Really slowly. He had often forgot that some days moved at such tortuous pace. Being an author often meant that he could easily get lost within his own thoughts and in the realm of his own imagination. It also meant that time would become a hard concept to grasp. At least in the earlier stages of his writing. However, whenever the deadline to submit something to his editor would loom closer, Bertholdt would start taking notice of how time literally seemed to fly by. He'd get haunted with the ticking of the clock in the hallway of his home, and his eyes would develop the destructive, compulsive like habit to take a furtive glance every minute at the digital numbers displayed on the screen of his laptop that’d indicate how much time he had left until he typed the final word for his story. Those were indeed harrowing moments that by choosing to follow his passion, he had condemned himself to a life full of. More often than once, he’d bang his head against his own desk repeatedly as he’d wonder what fit of madness had taken him to believe that his frail mind and thin patience would survive such stressful lifestyle and flourish in such taxing, both to his mind and body, career. Yet, every time he felt desperate and mentally exhausted, Bertholdt would remind himself of the reason he made such decision in the first place. Loving to craft a story and make it come to life with meticulously chosen words aside, Bertholdt, ever since he was a child, had a vivid imagination. The wildest amongst his peers, as he soon came to realize early in his life. Daydreaming had been an almost permanent state of his. He would often be lost in a fictional world where colors were brighter or – when he was feeling morose enough or craving the thrill of a scarier story – darker, with make-believe characters whom were certainly way more intriguing and fascinating than the people he knew in his mundane, boring life. Each of them would have a story to tell and destiny to fulfill and often, tragedy was a recurring theme in their lives, because tragedy was beautiful and wonderous and much more romantic. Pain made every story told infinitely better than if it was deprived of suffering and misery. Bertholdt believed firmly, with every fiber of his being, that art comes from pain. 

He had once been so ashamed of his overactive mind as it had often kept him from excelling in school like his mother wanted him to. He found math boring and deemed geometry to be the most uninspired form of torture. He did enjoy English though since he loved reading and, it provided him with an escape to faraway lands hundreds of miles from his small, covered in snow town in Ketchum, hundreds of years backwards or even forwards from his own time. His English teacher, Mrs. Rasmussen, was his favorite instructor and had managed to captivate his rampant mind for at least an hour a day throughout all his years in middle school. He had also been her favorite student and she had taken great pleasure in reading his own artistic contributions that varied between poetry and prose, depending on his mood and fluid inspiration. She was the only one that encouraged him to write more and harness the talent he had obviously been gifted with. She told him that he would go places no one could go to, as opposed to anyone else in his class. He struggled to believe her at first – He was the plainest, least interesting boy one had the misfortune to acquaint themselves with. Everyone told him so at least. Except for Reiner and Annie. He took great comfort when Reiner assured him that he was the “Awesomest guy he knew”. Annie on the other hand... She barely mentioned anything about it but, he liked to think that she didn’t share his cruel classmates' opinion of him or she wouldn’t have agreed to marry him. He could never imagine Annie settling for a boring life with an equally boring man. Years later, Berthold wished he could see his teacher again and thank her profusely for the kindest, incentivizing words he’s ever heard anyone tell him. She believed in him, more than his own mother ever had and, Bertholdt felt eternally grateful for her support and unrelenting encouragements. He wondered if she’d be proud of him if she ever learnt that he was soon going to be a published author? Perhaps when he would be back in Idaho again, he’d pay her a visit and deliver the exhilarating news himself. 

It took him years to understand that he had been “special”, talented and had the golden opportunity to leave his own mark in the world. Praise and compliments still felt overwhelming at times even though he had gotten better at accepting them. But Bertholdt no longer needed for people to spell it out for him because he came to understand, with much modesty and humbleness, that he was fucking amazing. It made him anxious when he thought about the pressure to live up to such high praise but, it also filled him with so much joy that he had once only attributed to made-up fairy tale stories. If he ever doubted the truth behind the others’ explicit admiration, he only needed to remind himself that if he had been any less of exceptional, they wouldn’t have offered him to sign a deal for a second book and make his story into a saga. 

Being an artist changed his perspective of things. Despite his guileless appearance and inconspicuous presence, Bertholdt couldn’t settle for anything ordinary. Granted, normalcy had its own charm but, Bertholdt longed for the unprecedented and the exquisite. 

That's how he fell in love with Annie when he was eight. Not that it was love, _love_ since he was still a kid but, he had known she was special, and really exceptional. He had seen her one day at the rink as he was struggling to be steady on his own feet without falling on his rear. He looked dopey and was in so much pain after falling for the tenth time that afternoon but there she was. Stunning, dazzling, almost like a painting albeit a moving one. He stood there mesmerized as he followed every twirl of her small figure, every jump on the ice underneath her and every bend of her delicate fingers. She looked like she was from another worldly realm, a goddess that had graced his reality with her gracefulness and swiftness. And she was so alluring, with her golden strands that shone under the artificial lights and her blue, icy gaze that seemed to bore right into his soul when she spotted him staring at her from afar. 

Bertholdt was no painter but, he wished he could immortalize her on a canvas. For he was smitten with her the moment he had laid his eyes on her. 

He wrote an infinite number of poems about the way she made him feel and she had blessed his dreams for many nights. He had never, ever thought that a day would come where she would take notice of him, let alone go on her tiptoes and press her soft, glossy lips to his. But, she did. Bertholdt pinched himself hard enough to know for certain that the sweet memory of that magical second wasn’t something his wild imagination conjured up to cope with her being basically out of his league. Yet, the bluish bruise on his forearm was undisputable proof for him and his cue from the universe to accept that Annie Leonhardt, the most beautiful and amazing woman he had ever known in his life, accepted him as her own equal. Years later, and the novelty of that happening still hadn’t worn off and Bertholdt had needed another reminder that this wonderful life he thought he had been daydreaming about was indeed now his reality. The shimmering aquamarine diamond ring on her finger was not only an eye-pleaser but, effectively made every doubt about the authenticity of his reality vanish into thin air. 

He was truly the happiest man alive, for a while, until he decided he wasn’t. The revelation itself felt earth-shattering and brought him from the illusion of having everything he had wanted with a bang. He'd spent the weekend following his encounter with Reiner beating himself up for having excluded the man from his life. His torment followed him for the week after, albeit with spectacularly less aplomb. He had tried to fix his mistake and the universe surprised him again when his attempt to smooth things over with his childhood friend actually worked. 

Naturally, he felt anxious about the upcoming Saturday coffee with the man he hadn’t talked to for the last three years save for a polite and uptight conversation where they carefully avoided each other’s gaze for the entirety of it, followed, a day later, by a ten-minute phone call. Yet, he felt optimistic about the prospect of reconnecting with the guy whom had once been his closest and dearest friend. Things worked so far in his favor, so maybe life could be kind to him one more time and grant him this singular wish? 

Saturday would provide him for the answers he desperately needed, that is if it could come sooner enough. This whole week was spent in running over every appropriate topic to talk about with his friend or gnawing his thumbnail as he worried over the possibility of it turning south as Reiner would decide he had no use of his friendship and turn him and his efforts down. Bertholdt soon realized that this was harsh evidence that he seriously had nothing better to do with his time outside of writing. He needed a new hobby soon, lest he goes insane with boredom or stress, or both at the same time. 

However, as long and excruciating the wait had been for the end of the week, Saturday came eventually and Bertholdt couldn’t begin to process his emotions when he stepped outside of his apartment before he made his way toward the subway. He felt excited to talk to Reiner again but, he couldn’t help feeling wary about the impending meeting. 

Bertholdt grabbed his phone from his jeans’ pocket and opened his Audiobooks app. He chose the archive of Sherlock Holmes as an appropriate distraction from his racing thoughts like he’d usually do every time he struggled to fall asleep. It didn’t have its miraculous and unexplained effect like it usually did when slumber felt like a distant memory but, it helped take his mind off his own anxiety. 

He was already standing by the Hi-Collar coffeeshop and as Bertholdt chanced a quick glance inside, he knew he made the right choice to come here. This place was as gorgeous as it seemed on TripAdvisor. 

He debated whether or not he should step inside and wait for Reiner in the warmth of the cozy café but decided against it. Yes, it was cold outside but he was used to barely above zero degrees weathers. Plus, it wasn’t like it was snowing or raining so he will be fine. He pulled out his phone again and started absentmindedly scrolling down his Facebook feed, looking up every once in a while, to see if any blond-haired man was approaching him. He did, after a five-minute wait, and there was Reiner, clad in a brown mid-thigh woolen coat and flaxen hair messy from the wind. He had yet to get used to him with a beard but, he didn’t object to it. It gave him a mature look without aging him much. It was actually stylish and went well with the neglected look he seemed to opt for. 

“Hey.” Bertholdt greeted him softly, an involuntary smile pulling at the corners of his lips as soon as Reiner stood in front of him. 

“Hey.” Reiner mirrored him in greeting, offering him a smaller smile of his own. Berthold moved to give his old friend a quick hug but was promptly disappointed when Reiner not-so-subtly evaded his embrace when he turned to look at the place in front of him. 

“Shall we go inside? It’s freezing here.” Reiner mumbled as he stared ahead. 

“Alright, let’s.” Bertholdt said in response, not able to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. 

Bertholdt felt his earlier sour mood dissipate the moment he spotted the Japanese aesthetic of the café. It almost looked no different than a regular bar what with the seating arrangement that consisted of...well, twelve bar stools. The room was dimly lit and despite it being a weekend and thus obviously almost full save for miraculously two empty seats, Bertholdt took comfort in knowing that they could at least having a private conversation even if they sat too close to other patrons. He wished the owner had gone the extra mile and replace the actual western light with proper Japanese lanterns for the customer to have a wonderful and immersive experience but, he’d keep those thoughts for another day when he’d be feeling crankier and without company. At least they had authentic looking sliding doors that he wished his own house could have one day so, he’ll be satisfied with that for the time being. Yes, he definitely adored this place and would come back again more than once. 

“It’s... a bar.” Reiner didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm about the mystical place “I have to admit to you buddy, I’ve grown sick of those things.” 

“Well, it might look like that but, it’s actually a coffeeshop slash tea room. So, I’ve got you covered.” Bertholdt tried to reassure him, feeling his own enthusiasm fade with his company’s evident disinterest with what had captivated his mind earlier. 

“If you say so.” Reiner said resignedly, an unreadable expression etched on his face. 

Did he even want to come here or was he just humoring him for the sake of being civil toward him? Was this Reiner’s way to tell him to never bother him again after this day? 

Well, there was no way he could tell what he was thinking, or how bored he was in his company when he couldn’t even see his face properly. Why did he choose this place again when he couldn’t even have a chat face-to-face with him? So much for wanting to get to know him again. They were no different than strangers who just happened to sit next to each other in a cramped bar-looking “café” in the middle of New York. 

Idiot. Bertholdt Hoover was a fucking idiot. 

He couldn’t wait for this to be over. He didn’t need Reiner to make these moments more hellacious than they already were. Bertholdt flushed in shame when Reiner asked him if he was certain they served anything other than alcohol as they stared at the large display of different brands of bottles of spirits in front of them. He could only meekly nod and breathe a sigh of relief as soon as they started flipping the menus in their hands.Reiner mustve become certain then that Bertholdt still grasped the concept of Coffeehouses and tea rooms. 

He settled for an iced coffee with two espresso shots that earned him a raised eyebrow from the man next to him. The other settled on a plain Americano, no sugar. An old man’s drink. When did Reiner become this... dull? 

_You missed too much of his life. Or maybe you’re simply reading too much into one’s preference for a hot beverage._

“So, how was your week?” Bertholdt decided to break the ice between them as soon as they made their orders. 

“Uh, the usual. I spent most of it doing...some readings.” Reiner shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Oh. I didn’t take you for a reader.” _Well, you would’ve if you talked to him in all those seven years._ Perhaps the man sitting next to him was a stranger after all and Bertholdt had yet to accept it. 

“Um, not the reading you’re thinking about. Iwas reading about Math curriculums and revising some basic Algebra and Geometry chapters.” Reiner said with obvious reluctance. For some reason, he didn’t look sure whether or not he wanted to share such details, and it intrigued Bertholdt to no end. 

“What for?” He asked, puzzled. 

“I... quit my job at the bar.” 

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? Sorry, you didn’t like your job so you had to resign? Wait, did he even know Reiner wasn’t comfortable working as a Bartender? 

“And I'll be the substitute Math teacher in the Manhattan Middle School.” Reiner added, a small smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps his assumption about Reiner’s previous job wasn’t so wrong after all. 

Is this what it was going to be like from now onwards? Him relying on his amateurish powers of deduction when it came to anything that concerned his self-proclaimed “friend” when he should’ve just asked him about it in the first place? 

Bertholdt didn’t have a good feeling about it being that way and he needed to do something about it. Soon. 

“Well, this is good news!” Bertholdt exclaimed with as much glee as he could muster in such a quiet place, “this calls for celebration!” 

“Thanks.” Reiner mumbled shyly. He was the same as he was; ever so reluctant about being on the receiving end of compliments. At least, they still had one thing in common. 

“You know what? It's on me.” Bertholdt nodded to himself. 

“No, you don’t have-” 

“Yes but, I want to.” Bertholdt impulsively reached for Reiner’s hand, before he gave it a firm squeeze. He had almost forgotten the way his skin had always felt stone-cold to the touch as opposed to his warm, clammy one. 

And he hadn’t missed the way his companion tensed under his touch. 

He wished he didn’t take it personally but, he couldn’t help but feel stung. 

“OK.” Reiner uttered quietly and Bertholdt decided he shouldn’t prolong his misery any further. He retracted his hand with obvious reluctance. 

Thankfully their drinks arrived sooner than they expected. Having something to drink and focus on seemed like a heaven-sent to put an end to their awkward talk about the February weather and sports. At some point during their monosyllabic exchange, he was tempted to apologize to Reiner for wasting his time and dragging him here, when he could’ve spent his Saturday with people that were worthy of his time and attention. 

For a few minutes, the only thing that could be heard were the soft chatter of the other clients and the waiters as they cluttered around the small place. 

Bertholdt chanced a furtive glance at his companion as he sipped on his own coffee, gaze distant and seemingly lost in thought. Now that Reiner had shrugged off his coat, Bertholdt could almost make out the shape of his bony shoulders underneath his beige sweater. Reiner had...lost weight. He didn’t know how he could make that observation given that he hadn’t seen the man since high school. Well, there was their graduation night but that hardly counted, for reasons he didn’t want to think about right now. Yet, Bertholdt could swear that he had at least lost twenty pounds, more or less. His friend had always been strongly built, broad shouldered and of a thick figure. Obviously, he was still as intimidating as he had once looked a decade younger and he was a few inches taller. His hair was definitely longer, different from the shorter locks he had donned for as long as he had known him. However, physical change didn’t jar him as much as the way his whole demeanor didn’t seem the same as before. He slouched his shoulders when he used to have a more confident posture years ago, with his puffed chest and the way he held his head high. He also looked tired. Very tired. Something he immediately noticed as soon as he saw him on Friday as his eyes flew instinctively to the bags under his old pal’s eyes. They even seemed darker today and Bertholdt suspected it barely had to do with the dim lighting. He expected that a bartender was prone to have those as he’d be on his feet, juggling between numerous tables and growingly drunker and needy patrons, for eight hours straight until first light. He hoped Reiner would get more rejuvenating hours of sleep now that he’d have a job where he’ll only work during daylight. It was a hopeful thought that Bertholdt wanted to entertain, for fear that his reasoning would turn convoluted in case his friend’s unusual quietness and exhausted appearance weren’t the result of his taxing and unrewarding job. 

Again, he could know all of the above if Bertholdt was brave enough to be straightforward with him, if he ever wanted to get him to open up about whatever might be bugging him. However, Bertholdt was too much of a coward to do that. 

Yet, even a coward could attempt to not be one. 

“Why did you disappear on Friday?” OK, where did that even come from? 

Oh no, he did in fact know. It’s what was on his mind for the whole week and the weekend before, as he pondered every possible reason Reiner had the urge to flee from the pub where he had supposedly a shift at. He’d made a long list of all his own theories and he wondered which one he’ll be ticking in a few moments. 

Reiner was silent for a few moments and Bertholdt wondered whether he had even heard him or simply decided to ignore his question so Bertholdt would get the hint to drop the matter altogether. He didn’t want to but, he’d understand if his friend felt the need to refrain from sharing with him whatever had happened then. 

“I, uh, I went to the, um, ER.” He stammered instead and Bertholdt felt his eyes widen in shock. 

“Shit, why? Did something happen?” Bertholdt asked instinctively suddenly alarmed as he gave his friend a quick once-over as if it was enough to tell whether or not something was wrong with him. He was thrown-off when Reiner chuckled lightly at his reaction. If Bertholdt had a clearer mind, he would’ve congratulated himself for making Reiner laugh for the second time in years. 

“I needed some stitches for the cut on my hand.” Reiner replied quietly. Right, he did have a bloodied towel clutched to his right palm when he was with them. One other reason that made Annie find the whole evening unsettling as she broached the subject once more on Sunday during dinner. Although, from his position to his companion’s left and if his memory served him right, he didn’t remember seeing any stitches and Bertholdt was quite the observant type of person. An injury that bled that much would’ve been large enough and require numerous stitches that would be visible to the naked eye. Bertholdt was certain he had seen none of those. 

For whatever reason, Reiner lied to him again. Bertholdt was frustrated to no end that he couldn’t ask him the reason that compelled him to. 

They really were total strangers. 

“Well, be careful next time.” He chose to say instead, scorned that he had nothing better to say. 

“There would be no next time since I’ve already left. Remember?” He was certainly making fun of his poor concentration. Great. Reiner most likely thought him disinterested in whatever tiny details of his own life he felt comfortable enough to divulge earlier. 

“Right.” 

Well, enter awkward small talk again. If he was feeling bold enough to assume that he would say anything to him after this. 

Merciful lord, could this get any worse? 

Bertholdt thought back bitterly to his earlier conviction that he had been doing this right and that sooner or later he’d get his friend back. Now, the odds of that ever happening varied from slim to none. Bertholdt had only himself to blame for his foolishness. He had made a grave error when he pushed Reiner away and now had the audacity to want to force himself back in his life. Reiner had every right to decline if he had politely asked him his opinion on the matter but, Bertholdt didn’t even bother to. He had once again made the choice for him and now his own friend, if he could even dare call him that, was making sure to teach him a hard lesson for being so cocky. 

He should just resign himself to his fate but, he was too stubborn to concede defeat. 

Not yet. There was still one more chance. 

“Reiner?” 

“Hm?” 

“Are you mad at me?” There. A shot at honesty. 

He should’ve done this way before. 

Reiner turned to look at him for the first time ever since they stepped inside the coffeehouse. Bertholdt wished he had known better and brought them to a place where they could be seated across each other and properly look at each other’s faces while talking. Alas, the deed was done and now he had to accept anything Reiner would ever give him. Even if it meant that unreadable expression that settled upon his features. 

“No.” He said after what seemed like an eternity. His face broke in a smile as he shook his head “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“Because I didn’t call for the last three years?” 

Reiner seemed like he wanted to tell him something, with the way his mouth opened but no sound came out. Whatever was on his mind right then was different from what he chose to say instead. 

“I assure you I’ve forgotten all about that.” He finally uttered, before he turned his face away from him again. 

This exact reaction; the way he averted his gaze and chose to look elsewhere, how he’d suddenly looked smaller and more vulnerable – He knew this. He remembered him acting this same way when he had picked him up almost in the middle of nowhere at five in the morning. He turned his face from him and kept staring through the window at the scenery that rushed in front of him. There was one flaw to his tough act though – tears had streamed freely down his cheeks and glistened under the dusk’s first lights. Bertholdt said nothing about it but its memory was sealed in his brain and he never seemed to erase its trace no matter how much he tried. 

Reiner wasn’t crying now though. His pale, hollowed cheeks were perfectly dry. 

“So, can we start over?” Bertholdt asked, voice husky with a sudden emotion. 

“What?” Reiner snapped around to look at him. Twice in one day – progress. 

“Clean slate?” Bertholdt asked tentatively again, noting the way Reiner’s thin eyebrows knit in confusion “I’m not asking to be best buddies or – Just, one day a week, any day. You name it. We could go for coffee or for a drink or even a simple walk. Nothing too fancy.” Bertholdt knew he was rambling on but, he didn’t care. He needed him to say yes. Oh god, he couldn’t bear to be rejected. 

“But... We live on opposite sides of the city.” Reiner protested weakly. 

“So? We’re New Yorkers. Subways or buses or cabs would take us as far and anywhere we want to.” 

At that Reiner chuckled again, that sweet, light-hearted laughter of his that made Bertholdt’s heart swell upon hearing it. 

“Barely two weeks in the big city and you’re calling yourself a New Yorker, huh? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves because, you have yet to learn your way around it.” 

“You could show me around, since you’ve lived here long enough to be an expert tourist guide?” He attempted for humor and was delighted to see it working as Reiner was mischievously grinning at his remark. 

“I’ll settle for coffee as a starter, we’ll see about the New York tour later.” Reiner answered cheekily, his face growing serious again as he raised his index as if in a warning “Although, for the record, I don’t like coffee shops that are bar-styles. I’ve really had enough of those for the time being.” 

“It’s a nice place – it looks authentically Japanese.” 

“I’ll go to Tokyo if I want to be in one, thanks.” 

“It’s aesthetically pleasing.” 

“Well, you’re the writer so I’m sure you would find this wonderous and inspiring. However, I’d rather have my old-man-style Americano in a regular coffeehouse that has more than two lightbulbs total.” 

“OK, but I’m glad you know Americanos are for geezers. What’s that for?” 

“Dairy doesn’t sit well with my stomach as it turned out, so unless it’s vegan milk and not soy-based then it’s diluted espressos for me.” 

“Fair enough.” 

They bid each other farewell an hour later and Bertholdt had a spring in his steps as he reflected on their time together. It didn’t turn out as great as he had expected it to with the initial discomfort and awkwardness but, they worked through it and he liked to believe that they had a good time despite all the odds. Better even, it wasn’t even the last time he’d see Reiner and Bertholdt was looking forward to getting to know him all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't blame Bertholdt for his taste in coffee shops; the Hi-collar café is pure Japanese aesthetic and I'd love to go there one day.  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts about this chapter xx
> 
> Update: Starting this week, I will no longer update chapters on Tuesday and Saturday. I’m going to take an exam that’ll be decisive for my medical career so, I won’t have time to write my fic except for Sundays, which will be the new updating schedulefrom now onwards. This will not only give me time to study and write but, also the time for readers to catch up with the story. We all have work, school and our busy lives outside of fanfics so, I think this will benefit everyone if chapters were updated once and at the end of the week. 
> 
> I look forward to share this story with you as I’ve had a blast writing it so far. I also look forward to hear from you guys so feel free to drop a comment or PM me! I’d love to talk about the story, reibert or anything else xx


	14. Chapter 14

**Reiner**

For the last three months of his life, Reiner’s life has been... ordinary.

He hadn’t expected it to turn out this particular way with how it initially seemed to be thrown into shambles when Bertholdt first moved to New York. He had braced himself for sleepless nights where he’d be unable to shut down his mind from ruminating on every minute which he had ever spent in the company of his former best friend since they were in kindergarten, every word of every conversation they had ever had. With his new job, he had firmly believed that it was also almost inevitable that his students would make his teaching experience a living hell.

Yet, they didn’t. For the first time since he graduated from college and obtained his degree, things were actually going well for him. Reiner didn’t know how he should feel about the matter. Despite the rational part in his brain yelling at him that he shouldn’t read too much into it, and just accept that he could be happy again, he couldn’t help but feel skeptical. If life had taught him anything, is that good things come with a price. He spent the entirety of the first two weeks at his new job anxiously waiting for the tables to be turned, and for the universe to reveal the cruel fate it reserved for him. And if that ever happened, he needed to be ever so ready and prepared for it. He couldn’t risk getting his heart broken again. He didn’t want to get his hopes high for them to be crushed the moment he’d let his guard down. He had been already disappointed enough in his life. He had gone through enough... _traumatic_ shit that he just wasn’t sure he could survive it again.

So, he was constantly on the lookout for any signs that the feeling of happiness and sense of stability he had acquired almost overnight, were nothing but quite an alluring yet, mere illusion. He registered every word of praise directed at him, every glint in his students’ eyes and analyzed each one of it for hours after he had gone to bed, until his brain begged him to just stop thinking and let sleep claim his body. He tired himself, both mentally and physically, until one day he could no longer take it.

His colleagues loved him and their faces would light up the moment he’d step into their staff room. His students, he admitted with modesty, **adored** him. Even he couldn’t miss the way their eyes followed every movement of his and how they seemed to hang on every word he’d say. For every fifty minutes, five days a week, Reiner captivated their entire focus that no student of his seemed to remember they owned a cellphone to distract them from his lesson. Even Pieck seemed to think the same and didn’t relent in concealing her bewilderment at how much well-received he was among the young minds, despite being the substitute teacher with no previous experience in the teaching department.

 _“You got Elizabeth Anne to have a perfect attendance strike for two weeks straight?”_ His roommate had questioned him one afternoon as soon as she had set foot inside their apartment _"_ _How?”_

 _“You mean, Beth?”_ He struggled to remember anyone with that Victorian name, except for an auburn-haired teen.

 _“Beth?”_ Pieck had asked him, perplexed.

 _“Yes, What’s what she wants to be called. That’s the name her grandad called her by. He raised her when her parents died in an accident before he passed away_ _too,_ _a year ago.”_

 _“Dear god,”_ Pieck had mumbled, suddenly deflated _“I never knew...”_

As ashamed as she had admitted that she felt, she had still marveled at how he could even reach someone who was as close to a delinquent as Beth was. _"I_ _told you, this job was made for you.”_ Reiner didn’t believe her then and attributed it to beginner’s luck, but the days only proved to him that perhaps he should start giving himself some credit for his fruitful efforts.

A month had gone by and Reiner had finally hit his breaking point. With much bitterness, he had to concede defeat.

He had to accept that his life, as unlikely as it seemed to him before, was in fact a good one. At least for the time being.

For almost the first time in his life, the universe was kind to him and allowed him to be content with the way things are.

Happiness was his reality now.

What baffled him even more was the fact that whatever good fortune had been bestowed upon him didn’t only concern his professional life but, also his social one. Pieck and Porco were still the best friends he had in the entire world and he doubted that would ever change for the rest of his days. The new addition to his circle of friends was, however, what confounded him the most.

At first, he had been so wary of Bertholdt coming into his life again after everything Reiner had been through. Had he told anyone the entirety of the history they had, they wouldn’t have faulted him for feeling cautious about it. _Cautious_ , in fact, would’ve been an understated, perhaps even inaccurate term to describe the exact nature of Reiner’s feelings when he realized he’d see more of Bertholdt than he had for the last seven years of his adult years.

Because Reiner simply loathed the idea of having him be part of his life again.

He had vowed to himself the night he had left that kind stranger’s place that he would never allow the raven-haired man ever again in his life. He swore that he wouldn’t let him ruin his offered opportunity at a decent, stable life. He just needed him to be as far away as possible from where he was. As long as he didn’t see him or talk to him, he’d forget he even existed in the first place. Reiner would be safe then and he would be able to start afresh.

Until that eventful Saturday afternoon when by some miraculous force of nature, Reiner decided to answer an unknown number. Reiner couldn’t bring himself to process that he had just said ‘yes’ to both dinner with Annie and Bertholdt and coffee with the latter a week later. Reiner was tempted on more than one occasion to just cancel on him, and explain to his former best friend that he wasn’t comfortable of the idea of hanging out with him alone. Whatever Bertholdt had in mind for their “relationship”, Reiner didn’t feel up to it. He didn’t want to be his pal again, if that was his plan. He didn’t need to sit through one painful coffee just for the sake of being civil. He didn’t want the trouble. He had a much more efficient method that Bertholdt has adopted for the last seven years and that had worked for his favor so far. Pretending that the other didn’t exist would work out way better than pretending that they actually cared for each other.

However, Reiner didn’t do it in the end. Saturday came and he was walking down the streets, needing some fresh air, to meet the very same man he had sworn to never see again.

And there he was, towering over everyone that walked past him and giving him the warmest smile Reiner had once accepted he’d never witness from the taller man again. Reiner resisted offering him a smaller smile of his own. Bertholdt had always had that effect on him. He had wrenched the control from him and made him feel, think and act in ways Reiner desperately battled, alas in vain.

He had never been able to win against Bertholdt. Seven years later and it seemed that things didn’t change much.

Reaching for a hug was a stretch though. Reiner’s body recoiled as soon as he realized his intention. He didn’t care that Bertholdt was hurt by his blunt rejection. It would do him good to have a taste of his own medicine. Not that it would have amounted to anything because, Bertholdt was the most oblivious, idiot that Reiner had ever known.

 _“Are you mad at me?”_ His companion blurted then, when Reiner didn’t think their torturous hour couldn’t get any worse.

 _Am I mad at you, you’re asking? Well, don’t you fucking know? Do you always need people to spell out_ _everything_ _for you to have half a fucking clue?_

Reiner was so dumbfounded at the insensible question that he couldn’t grace it with a genuine answer. He'd have the whole fucking day to even begin explaining to him how treating his once so-called best friend like disposable garbage was the cruelest thing Reiner had never imagined the sweet and kind boy from back then to be capable of. He gritted his teeth and bit the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from shouting at him and ask him how come someone with as wild of an imagination as the rising author couldn’t envision the repercussions of his ruthless behavior to someone he had once cared so much about.

_You promised you’d never leave me but, you did nonetheless. You knew how much it hurt me when dad left without a word and yet, you did the very same._

Despite the temptation, Reiner didn’t want to make a fuss. He didn’t want to look like a scorned, pitiful ex-girlfriend. He also didn’t want to humor Bertholdt with a reply and offer him a chance to redeem himself. Redemption should be earned and someone as tactless, self-centered and inconsiderate as Bertholdt didn’t fucking deserve it.

_“I assure you I have forgotten all about it.”_

Perhaps Reiner had one last hope that Bertholdt would finally understand the gravity of his mistakes and properly take actions. Properly make it up to him. But no. He was too proud, too egotistical and entitled to even apologize for his cruelty. He was above it. He would, however, ask again for something he wants and demand that he has it, adamant as he had always been to always get what he wished for.

He asked to see Reiner again, because he wanted to start over. Once again, it was about himself, and Reiner should’ve said no then. He should’ve taken the humiliation if he had burst into a fit of sobs as he’d explain to him how wrong he was to take him for granted and always assume he could have him back anytime he wanted. He wasn’t some toy another child took from him to realize he wanted it again, even when he heedlessly threw it away a second before. Reiner wasn’t going to be his doormat and he should’ve told him so.

He couldn’t though. Not when he was looking at him so hopefully. Not when, for a fraction of a second, he made him feel like he truly mattered to him.

Reiner wanted to cling to that thought, even if it was a deluded one. He desperately wanted to feel that Bertholdt needed him in his life again.

He also missed him, terribly.

So, he said _“Yes."_

He felt repulsed by his treacherous body when his heart skipped a beat the moment Bertholdt’s face broke into a wide grin. God, he always loved seeing him smile, ever since he was a little boy.

The same thing had seemed to happen with Bertholdt like it did with his career. Reiner was full on guard, and braced himself for the moment his friend would be fed up with him and realize that time spent in his company was a complete waste of his.

Not for one minute, did Bertholdt make him feel that way.

The first few times they went out for coffee again had been tense and awkward, albeit more tolerable than their first one in that Japanese bar. At least, Bertholdt seemed to grasp that for them to be more at ease in each other’s company, they needed to sit across each other or in any other way where they could easily look at each other’s faces without giving themselves torticollis. Bertholdt had even made a not so subtle, self-deprecating joke about his previous choice of cafés, a pink hue tainting his cheeks as he bashfully reminisced over his mistake. Reiner couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, finding it ever so endearing despite himself. But, Bertholdt’s choice of coffeehouses wasn’t the only thing that seemed to improve, as they slowly but surely, eased into spending time together without feeling any sort of discomfort. It took them three months for Reiner to start enjoying himself when he was in his company. His grudge didn’t seem to disappear seeing as Bertholdt still couldn’t recognize he needed to apologize to him and ask for his forgiveness. But at least, it was no longer the only thing that’d be on Reiner’s mind every time he was with him. Time heals, someone once said, and Reiner could just attest to the truth behind those wise words. He still couldn’t forgive Bertholdt for treating him so callously but, for the first time, Reiner thought that it was no longer as unconceivable as he once adamantly believed it to be. Bertholdt planted himself in his life again and seemingly decided for Reiner that he could one day move past the grave error of his ways. This time, Reiner didn’t mind relinquishing this kind of control to him. It felt good to not be angry and seething for once. He didn’t want to let go of such soothing feelings.

Pieck was also very appreciative of his improved mood. She asked him one evening if he had someone special in his life. Reiner chuckled at the absurdity of her question.

“No, I'm not dating anyone.” He denied then.

“Well, somehow I struggle to accept that rowdy, hormonal teenagers are the sole source of your unadulterated merriness.” Pieck cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to urge him to just spill his beans.

“There is no special guy, I promise.” Reiner decided he needed to tell her the truth he knew she helplessly waited for him to confide in her regarding his unavailability during Saturdays which used to be their sacred night out at their favorite bar “It’s just... Bertholdt wanted a clean slate and suggested we try to get to know each again, for old times’ sake.” He finally said, relief washing over him as he saw the way his roommate’s gaze softened.

“Did he now?” She asked, smiling softly as he nodded in response “Well, no one says romance is above friendship.”

“True, but I’m not saying I’m opposed to romance itself.” Reiner admitted playfully “Because the new English teacher is actually cute.”

“Ade?” Pieck’s eyes widened, his statement somehow taking her off-guard.

“Ade?”

“Adrian. Oh my god!” Pieck squealed before she stood up from her seat in front of the fireplace.

“Don’t get too excited, you know it’s not my style.” Reiner reminded her. A futile effort seeing as she was already grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You have to date him.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!” She exclaimed with unrestrained glee.” Ade is a lovely, sweet guy and he’s actually gay. He’s perfect for you!”

“I think you’re underselling him a little bit because I would swipe right if I stumbled across that kind of dating profile.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Please, Reiner! Take him to dinner, no, I can set you up! I can text him right now!” And just like that, she grabbed her phone and started thumbing at the screen at top speed.

“No, Pieck, you won’t. And put down that Kava Kava you’ve been drinking for the last two hours. It’s clear you’ve had too much of it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t date, ever.”

“I seem to recall you claimed that your sex escapades with straight married men were in fact, dates. Explain this to me.”

“Fine, call it whatever you want. I still won’t do this.”

“Then, do neither of the two.” Pieck shrugged.

“Why?” Reiner furrowed his brows in confusion. He thought she got over her meddling in his dating affairs, why was she doing this now?

“Because you’re a teacher now and you can’t jeopardize your career because of this.” Reiner was taken aback by the seriousness of her tone.

“What if one of your students is on those apps?” 

“You have to be above the age of eighteen to use it.” Reiner started squirming at her question because he didn’t exactly sound convincing, even to his own ears.

“Yeah, sure, because they absolutely have a way to verify their users’ age. I know the app doesn’t require that you upload your own picture and although, it says a lot about their security measurements, it also means you don’t have a way to know whether or not you could be matched with one of your students, or even their dads.” Pieck explained thoroughly and Reiner hated to admit that she made a valid point. “Think what would happen if this ever got to the principal.”

“Right. So, abstinence will be my fate and I shall resign myself to growing old and alone.” Reiner deadpanned. He knew his decade-old hobby would eventually get in the way of his career. It didn’t mean he couldn’t grieve abruptly parting ways with it.

Pieck swiftly moved to his side before she knelt in front of him. She reached for his hand and cradled it gently in her small ones.

“Reiner, sweetie, this is a new chapter in your life.” She said in the tenderest voice he ever heard from her, and Reiner was suddenly reminded of his own mother at the fondness in her tone “I know this is new for you but, you have to give yourself a chance at happiness. You've got a decent job where everyone respects and adore you. You've mandated things with Bertholdt and you’ve got your friend back. I think you also deserve a chance at love.”

“But...”

“You’re a good man and I only want the best for you. I’m not telling you to marry him. Just, one date – one dinner. You could decide to never see him again then if you didn’t like him.”

“And make things awkward at school for the remaining of my days there? Pieck, I don’t date in general but, I specifically don’t date colleagues.”

“Adrian is a good guy; he wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t click.”

Reiner was silent for a few moments as he pondered his friend’s suggestion. He knew she only had his best interest in her mind. It was just too frightening for him to trust another man and let himself feel...things. There was a reason he had never been in a serious relationship before. However, like Pieck said, no one was forcing him to do anything he didn’t want and, he had as much control in this as the other guy did.

“Fine. One date.” Reiner couldn’t help but smile at the way his roommate grinned enthusiastically in response.

“I’ll tell him.” She picked up her phone again before she proceeded to fire a text to her colleague.

“Don’t undersell me but, especially, don’t oversell me.”

“Noted.”

Reiner usually trusted his gut feelings. It had worked for him on many occasions but, like life has proved to him lately; he couldn’t predict how things could turn out. Perhaps his date with Adrian would also go beyond his usually low expectations. Perhaps love is what had been lacking from his otherwise steady life.

The only way to have his answers is to follow through with his promise to Pieck the following Friday.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are difficult and trying times. I hope everyone is taking care of themselves, both physically and mentally. If you're protesting out there, wherever you are, I am proud of you and I support you and wish I could be there with you. So, please stay safe and healthy. To anyone else who couldn't march with the brave masses; it's OK. This isn't a week-long trend, this a lifetime long fight. You can donate, raise charities, share about your own experiences with racism and privilege and educate yourselves and others in your close circle. This is long-term and it shouldn't die out yet or history will repeat itself, as it did, over and over again. 
> 
> If you like you need to vent or talk about anything else to take off your mind off what is going on in the word today, because yes, there is no shame to feel upset and overwhelmed, then my PMs are open. If you want, you can also DM me in [ Tumblr ](https://tumblr.com/whiteasy)  
> Meanwhile, I know this isn't much but when I feel driven to an edge these guys are comforting to me and sometimes make me feel better. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

When Adrian first suggested the destination for their date in the third Avenue, Greenwich village, Reiner nearly groaned.

Reiner had been worrying himself sick over how to ask his colleague out when the latter beat him to it, encouraged - or rather prompted - by Pieck's text which was apparently followed by another convincing and, knowing his roommate, maybe slightly vehement, conversation during lunch break the following day. Reiner couldn't fight a smile from tugging at his lips when the brunet stammered what he apparently deemed a conventional way to ask someone on date, with much sweating and flailing of hands in the air to get through with his point that he really liked Reiner and wanted to take him somewhere nice and get to know him. Reiner found it very endearing until the English teacher followed through with his suggestion. 

Yes, he loved and was equally passionate about the Italian culinary. No, he didn’t particularly feel like spending half an hour, if not more, in the subway and especially on Friday. They didn’t really need to go across all the way to the East Side just for the sake of food. They had plenty of decent, Italian restaurants close to both of their places in the Upper West side of Manhattan. He was just on the verge of voicing his thoughts about his colleague’s decision but, stopped short when he mentioned that he’d pick him up. Reiner was speechless for a few minutes, as he tried to wrap his head around his date’s proposal. Why did **he** want to pick him up? They were both motorized and Adrian clearly didn’t know how the traffic was on a Friday evening. It would be way less stressful to take the subway or hail a cab even if it was way more expensive.

Reiner realized that his silence didn’t look like a good sign to his colleague. He didn’t want to prolong his misery any further when he noted how eager he was to go to that particular place so, Reiner acquiesced, reluctantly. He had to admit, Adrian’s enthusiasm was contagious as Reiner couldn’t resist a small of his own when he saw the brunet’s face break into a wide grin. They parted ways as soon as the school bell’s rung, heralding that classes should start soon. Since then, Reiner had been actually looking forward to their night-out together. Pieck was also just as excited about his upcoming plans. Although, she was quite astonished when he mentioned his earlier dilemma about who should’ve picked up who and whether or not should he have declined Adrian’s offer. Her mouth hung open for a few seconds and he could swear her eyes grew bigger, as if they inflated. _“You’ve really never done this before.”_ She breathed then, incredulous. She immediately flew to his side from her seat by their dining table where she had been typing some syllabus, and pulled him down to her level in a fierce hug. She exclaimed in an emotional voice how happy she was that he decided to give himself a chance at this. Reiner rolled his eyes in fond exasperation at her flare for drama but, he felt touched nonetheless by her concern for his well-being.

Come Friday night, Reiner’s palms were clammy from nerves. He had changed his outfit at least thrice before he settled on a more casual style. Even though it was already May, the weather didn’t get as warm as it should’ve been even when Summer was just around the corner. He opted for a button-up sweater with faded black to grey pattern and donned his steel-colored trousers, which he rolled the ends above the ankle. He finished his spur-on-the moment-look with his black Doc-Martens and black leather jacket. Before he knew it, Pieck was chasing after him in their floor’s hallway, asking him not so delicately to not hook-up with Ade in the first date. He took great satisfaction when Mrs. Mackenzie swung her own door open in order to chastise her younger neighbor. Reiner hurriedly went for the stairs as soon as he heard the older woman join in with Pieck’s "advice” regarding his evening out.

The drive through the traffic has been stressful for Adrian, Reiner could tell. They've been held off at least twenty more minutes during which the English teacher kept nervously checking the time and apologizing profusely for their delay. Reiner tried to assure him that he couldn’t possibly fault him that New York was the busiest city in the world, albeit to no avail. His colleague’s restlessness followed them even when they were comfortably seated inside the restaurant. Reiner tried to divert his gaze from his companion’s evident distress as he stared in awe at the interior’s breathtaking decor. Like most food places and cafés in New York, the Olio e Piu restaurant wasn’t as roomy as Reiner would’ve preferred it to be for both privacy and comfort’s sake. However, he couldn’t deny that he was fascinated by what he saw. Almost all furniture was made from red-sandal wood, which ran smooth and supple under his fingertips. Vigorous, lush plants and flowers littered almost every surface in the place. Reiner could’ve easily mistaken himself to be in a garden instead of a confined restaurant, as its sweet scents tickled his nostrils. Reiner couldn’t take his eyes off the small bouquet of Ivory Carla lilies that sat on top of the wooden counter. They were truly his favorites.

Adrian was just as entranced as Reiner was with the wonderous place. Reiner couldn’t help a fond smile from pulling at his lips as he watched the way his date would flail his hands in the air or randomly clap them together as he passionately cited every reason for which this peculiar Italian eatery was his favorite. The fluffy pancakes had apparently a secret ingredient he still struggled to identify, that made them taste scrumptious. He suggested, as a passing, that they should try it next when they’d go for Breakfast.

“I know you have quite the eye or as one might say, the tasting buds for cuisine, so you might know the answer that intrigued me for months.” He suggested playfully, his own face falling as he realized his slip of tongue. Reiner couldn’t help but chuckle at the way his cheeks went ablaze as he emitted a stream of apologies for apparently being so “presumptuous”. Reiner reached across the table and rested his hand on top of his flustered companion’s trembling one to reassure him that no offense was taken. He felt relief wash over him as Adrian’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed. There was no need for them to be so uptight about every word and detail. Reiner came here to have fun and he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that.

The Olio e Piu restaurant exceeded Reiner’s initial expectations when it came to the food they served. He startled the moment he glimpsed the ludicrous prices and he nearly suggested to Adrian that they should leave and eat somewhere else. Granted, they both had a steady income but Reiner didn’t feel his wallet would appreciate to pay for a dinner that’d easily cost them above hundred bucks. His colleague assured him that despite the high prices, the delicious food would be worth it. Reiner had to eagerly agree the moment he sampled a mouthful of his Lasagna. He had to refrain, with herculean efforts, from moaning in delight as the cheese almost melted in his tongue. Yes, he was definitely coming back to this place again, and not just once.

Reiner felt slightly guilty to be the only one drinking between the two of them since he wasn’t the one driving but, Adrian assured him that he rarely drunk in the first place. He'd have the occasional glass of Chardonnay or a Pinot noir when he would eat out, which was a rarity too, but that was all to his drinking habits. He demanded that Reiner should indulge himself without him. Reiner apologetically complied to his companion’s wish. Eventually, he didn’t regret it in the least. As the white wine coursed through his brain, his head felt lighter and he smiled even more easily, as he suddenly found the way Adrian kept straightening his ridiculous, burgundy bowtie every five minute, almost in a tic, very endearing. He could also tell his cheeks were flushed red as he had never had a high tolerance for alcohol despite his intimidating build.

The remaining of his evening went in a blur when Reiner had drunk the last droplet of his second glass. However, Reiner knew for certain that he enjoyed himself immensely. He could also tell Adrian had a great time in his company. Obviously, like most first dates apparently went, they had both found themselves running out of topics to talk about as they waited for their food. Given their jobs as both teachers in the same school, they couldn’t stop themselves from bringing up work to their table. Reiner burst into laughter at Ade’s flabbergasted reaction when Reiner recounted the time their student Julie Coots keyed the words “MAN WHORE” in the vice-principle’s car whom was by the way her father. Adrian admitted how afraid he was that he could be Julie’s eventual target if he ever, in one way or another, got on her bad side. Having known the blond teen and gotten accustomed to her quirks, Reiner assured him he had nothing to worry about. The teen’s rebellious and disruptive behavior was often directed at her own father or any teacher – male or female, she didn’t discriminate – who couldn’t see through her tough, nonchalant act. Reiner admitted he couldn’t imagine that Adrian was as inconsiderate to not know his way around difficult children like Julie. He felt his heart swell as the man across him accepted his compliment, albeit with bashfulness, if the pink hue that dusted his pale and freckled cheeks was any indicator.

Almost as if in tune with the recent events in his life, Reiner felt good about this evening. Adrian was in fact sweet and thoughtful. Pieck did undersell him after all, because he was a much more enjoyable company than Reiner braced himself for at the beginning of the evening, as soon as they decided to simply enjoy the couple of hours they were going to spend together, without complications. So far, Reiner loved every second of it. He also learnt a great deal about Adrian. He was an avid reader like he imagined him to be but, was also very passionate by traveling overseas. Reiner understood then why Pieck was a close friend to his – they were practically alike. Reiner’s lips quirked in a lazy smile as he tried to picture the both of them vigorously discussing Shakespeare. Reiner also couldn’t deny that he enjoyed talking about his hobbies outside of Mathematics. He felt a rush of affection as he took in the man sat in front of him and the way he seemed to hang on every word Reiner said as if it was pure gold. It felt good to be listened to. It felt good to be admired. Reiner could no longer deny how much it pleased him to know he was really liked for he was.

His mind didn’t stop nagging at him throughout the night that he should cave and ask his date to take him back to his place. Old habits die hard but, Reiner managed to fight the temptation. Something about the whole night told him that he shouldn’t jinx this. Dating wasn’t that awful after all and he could imagine himself going for a second one with the English teacher.

Reiner's resolve immediately faltered as they stepped outside the marvelous place. Adrian's car was parked a couple of blocks further and they both agreed they needed to go for a walk after their food coma. Unexpectedly, the weather was colder and windier than Reiner dressed for. He couldn’t help but shiver slightly and Adrian, being the gentleman that he was, didn’t hesitate for a second to drape his own coat around Reiner’s shoulders. Despite his feeble protests, Reiner greatly appreciated the warmth. He could finally enjoy the fresh crisp air night now that he was appropriately dressed.

They walked the short distance in comfortable silence before they finally arrived at their destination. Instead of clambering inside immediately, they both stood in front of the Nissan Versa.

“Tonight, I’ve really had a great time, Reiner.” Adrian uttered softly, gazing tenderly at his companion.

“Me too.” Reiner breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Should he ask him now? Was he a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t freak out the guy?

Before Reiner could bring himself to express his wish, Adrian’s warm hand was on his cheek. Reiner's eyes fluttered shut despite himself, heart racing wildly and threatening to jump out of his chest. It was only a couple of seconds before the brunette brought their faces together in a tender kiss. Reiner had his answer then.

He couldn’t do it. It just felt so wrong.

He had no doubt Adrian was just short of being the perfect guy. He was sweet and kind. Reiner also couldn’t deny he was very attractive despite him looking like he traveled from the nineteenth century with his collared white shirt underneath a waistcoat and bowtie. Reiner really, really liked him.

It was the reason why he couldn’t meet him halfway.

Adrian deserved someone who could do that. He was too good and too nice to have to put up with someone who didn’t want anything further than one, singular date. Reiner would happily go home, content with the sweet memory of the night he had just spent. But he knew he didn’t want more. Adrian did, clearly. That was why he couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t lead him on. It'd break his heart in the end, and Reiner knew perfectly how much that would hurt.

The ride back home was quiet, save for Adrian's cursing under his breath as he struggled to get them through the traffic. Reiner was staring outside the window, gaze distant, as his mind replayed his earlier thoughts on an infinite loop.

He didn’t feel like going home now and facing Pieck and endure her pestering him about his evenings’ details.

He asked Adrian to drop him a couple of blocks away from his own apartment, saying that he needed to run for some errands. The brunet might not have believed him but, he didn’t question it either.

After bidding his companion goodbye, Reiner was once again outside, suddenly missing the earlier warmth provided by his thoughtful date. Yet despite the freezing temperature, he didn’t feel like going home yet.

He needed to vent. He needed to talk to someone.

He knew who he needed to call.

He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and searched for the by-now familiar and most ringed contact in his phone. He hit the button “dial” and brought the device to his ear, waiting for the person on the other end of the line to pick up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Happy Pride Month xx


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a chapter earlier on because, I won't be able to on Sunday. So, here you go - earlier update!

**Bertholdt**

Type.

Delete.

Type again.

Delete.

Delete. Delete.

Oh, it was blank again. Back to square _zero_.

Bertholdt sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He ran his hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself down a little, lest he ends up breaking his own laptop. Again.

The best part of his days had always been the hours he’d spend writing. He'd wake up at six every morning, usually roused from sleep by Annie cluttering about in the bedroom as she’d get ready for her day. She’s usually up an hour earlier than he does so, she often ends up making coffee for them both. They don’t habitually eat together during the week-days except in the week-ends but, it’s never bothered them so far in the last three months. Bertholdt knew they weren’t as “face-glued together”, as Annie had once put it, like most couples they knew. They both had their own, busy lives. Annie’s day would usually start at five in the morning, where she’d have to head out to the rink for a few hours before starting her work in a lingerie store. She'd have to head back to the rink again to train with her Russian coach, Yulia. They usually eat dinner together and even watch any random show on Netflix. Although, most of the times, Annie would straight take a shower and head to bed immediately the moment she’d set foot inside their apartment. He didn’t blame her – She was often exhausted, both mentally and physically, after a day spent dealing with often rude, entitled customers and putting up with her obnoxious middle-aged coach as she would try to push her to her limits until she’d wear her out, six days out of seven.

On the other hand, Bertholdt’s days were simpler. Much simpler.

He'd get up at six, eat whatever would be available on his fridge or in the rarest times; whatever Annie whipped up for them in the course of fifteen minutes instead of their usual bland, healthy cereals. If he would be feeling crafty enough, sometimes he’d make the odd Pancakes or – when he would’ve watched at least ten episodes on end of those quite trendy _What I eat in a day_ YouTube video each time he was procrastinating writing – oatmeal. He had once gone too far with making porridge by making it every single day for a whole month. Annie had threatened him to throw every box of oatmeal in their pantry – and he bought a lot, one day, on a whim – if she ever saw him stirring again. He acquiesced then, unwillingly, but he soon found he didn’t miss it much. Porridge does get a bit old after having tried a few toppings after all.

Then comes the part he looks forward to the most – writing. Turning all those marvelous ideas into words and stories had been the best thing that had ever happened to him for the last seven years of his life.

He didn’t believe in the concept of the perfect setting for creativity – he had no study specifically reserved for his hobby slash job. He was quite minimalistic about his working environment. He only needed his living room’s Kvell couch which Annie had bought years ago when she first moved to New York, and his laptop. He didn’t have a particular Spotify playlist to help him focus or get inspired. He often felt at his full mental and creative capacity in the absolute silence. When it got boring or even unnerving at times, he’d resort to playing a sequence from a TV show or a podcast or an episode from his favorite show, on infinite loop. Rain and wind ASMR inspired him too. He’d been putting on those more frequently now that it was getting warmer and thus, drier. Bertholdt would easily get lost in his Word pages, the sound of typing and whatever he had picked for background noise, soothing him, prompting him to channel all his energy into producing meticulously chosen words and weave them into an intriguing story. He’d barely feel the time going until he’d hear the front door creaking open, Annie’s voice greeting him resounding in the empty hallway. That'd be his cue to wrap things up then, so he could enjoy some human company. He'd go to sleep afterward, content with his productivity and how much progress he’d made with his book. Obviously, there were days where he’d have to edit or even delete everything which he’d written the day prior. It was frustrating, as editing was prone to be, but a required step for the writing process. Perfect everything he’d typed until he’d be hundred percent confident with what he’d submit to his editor.

Other days, however, were even more infuriating. Like this day was. He'd barely type a sentence before deleting it again, the whole process repeating itself almost on never-ending loops for an entire day. He had spent the first three hours of his Friday doing the exact same thing. He had to leave his house for a walk when he could no longer bear the sight of his blinking cursor, as it stared at him and reminded him that there in fact days where he wasn’t as brilliant and gifted as he liked to think he was. He needed a breath of fresh air and, a stroll in the Sunset Park in 7th Avenue helped ease his fraying nerves at his own unproductivity. He sat on one of the old wooden benches, admiring the breath-taking greenery that surrounded him. This had been one of his favorite discoveries since he first started living in New York. Being in this southwestern part of the borough of Brooklyn felt like a travel back in time. With its Twentieth-century row of antique houses, Sunset Parks felt to him like a preserved piece of Old New York. If sat in a strategic spot of the neighborhood, he could relish watching the Skylines of Manhattan and the wonderous view of the Statute of Liberty. He had more often than once, snapped a few pictures of the stupendous sceneries with his second-hand Sony camera. Some of those ended up adorning the walls of their blank hallway. _“People often put up more... personal pictures of themselves or their friends up there,”_ Annie scoffed at him the first time she noticed the photographs of the Upper New York Bay and the tugboats. _“These are personal and intimate to me.”_ Bertholdt replied in earnest then. Annie merely shook her head and let him be.

Yet, today, not even an hour spent in one of his favorite spots seemed to help. After he made himself a delicious meal and took a relaxing, steamy shower, he still couldn’t write anything he didn’t end up erasing every trace of in the following minute. Decidedly, the angry, blank page would remain just as void for the remaining of his day.

Writer's block – the much-dreaded enemy of every author on the planet. Sometimes, it wouldn’t go over a day or two before he would be back on track. Other times, this mood would torture him for a week or worse, even longer. Those were the worse to surmount. On more than one occasion, he had almost given up following his passion. The once loved hobby would become his worst nightmare. He'd have to leave his bed in tears, and drag his heavy feet toward his cursed spot by the couch just so he would be thwarted again from making any progress. He felt his heart pool in the pit of his stomach as he thought about the possibility of this day being the first of many, longer and harrowing ones still ahead.

No. No. He wouldn’t go there yet. There was no point in picturing the worst scenario yet. He will get through this.

He just needed another distraction. No, he needed someone keep him to company, or just to talk to.

He startled when he heard his phone buzz from its spot on the coffee table. Bertholdt had never reached so quickly for the device, grateful for the distraction. Please don’t be a stupid notification on Facebook or god forbid, an email from his editor.

It was Reiner, calling him, as if reading his mind.

If Porco was in front of him right now, he'd hug him until he could no longer breath for reuniting him with his friend again. He couldn't imagine being left to his anxious thoughts any longer. 

He quickly swiped the green icon to the right before he hastily brought the device to his ear.

“Hey!” He said cheerily, gleeful at the prospect of talking to someone other than himself (Yes, he talked to himself, often and loudly.)

“Hey.” Reiner sounded... weird. Off even. Bertholdt felt his heart sink immediately as he picked up at the uneasiness in his tone.

“Hey.” Bertholdt said again, warily, his friend’s evident distress rubbing off on him “You OK?”

“Yeah, yeah. I am. It's just...” Reiner fell silent again and Bertholdt could feel his heart racing the longer Reiner was stalling “Listen, can I see you?” He blurted suddenly.

“Um,” Bertholdt was momentarily thrown off by his friend’s proposal. He quickly glanced at the time on his laptop. It was past ten in the evening. “Yeah, of course. Where are you?” He knew Reiner wasn’t home judging by the traffic’s blaring noise in the background.

“Uh, 200 W 70th Street – I'm standing in front of Café Luxembourg.”

“Got it. I’ll be there in twenty.” Bertholdt assured him before he trudged toward his bedroom. He pulled on the nearest and warmest sweater he found before he grabbed his car keys. He closed the door behind him and took the two flights of stairs, two steps at once toward the parking lot. He quickly fired a text to Annie informing her he was heading outside before he turned his car’s alarm off and climbed inside.

Half an hour later, give or take, he spotted Reiner leaning against the outside wall of the French café. The string lights that embellished almost every electricity pole on the street was reflecting softly on his grim face. His hair looked a shimmering gold as the lights danced on his short locks.

He pulled a few feet away from where he was stood, the flashing of his car’s lights alerting his friend to his presence. Reiner straightened up and walked in his direction with obvious reluctancy. Before long, he stood in front of his window, Bertholdt promptly rolling it and mumbling a ‘get inside’, tone circumspect as he took a closer look at his friend’s face. Reiner immediately did as he was told and moments later, he fell heavily in his passenger seat, gaze stubbornly locked down at his lap.

Bertholdt felt his stomach turn to lead as he noticed his tear-streaked cheeks.

“Reiner-” He reached with his hand for his companion’s own fidgeting in his lap, feeling stung when his friend pulled back, as if scalded.

“Sorry.” Reiner mumbled; voice hoarse from having cried earlier “I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, hey. None of that.” Bertholdt said softly, pulling away his own hand. Something clearly upset him and Bertholdt wouldn’t rest until he knew what it was. He had to tread carefully though. They've been building their friendship slowly for months now and he couldn’t risk Reiner shutting off and excluding him. They weren’t seventeen anymore – he didn’t trust him as much as he did then and, for a good reason.

“Do you want to go somewhere else and talk?” Bertholdt asked tentatively. Reiner shook his head weakly in response.

“Can you just... drive?” He said after a few seconds, voice suddenly smaller “Anywhere.”

“Alright. O-Of course.” Bertholdt nodded to himself before he turned on the ignition and pulled out of his parking slot.

Bertholdt drove mindlessly for half an hour, trying to keep his swearing to a minimum with the heavy traffic. Not that Reiner would’ve minded by the looks of it. Bertholdt chanced a side-glance to his companion almost every five minutes, desperately looking for any sign that might have indicated he was feeling remotely better. Reiner was the same for the whole duration of the ride – gaze distant as he stared ahead. He didn’t utter a single word either.

He didn’t show any reaction when they passed by his apartment in the 75th Amsterdam, so Bertholdt knew he didn’t want to go home either. That wasn’t good. None of this was remotely reassuring, especially with the way his breathing seemed to grow labored with each passing minute. He was still as tense as he had first come in and he was clenching and unclenching his fists almost on autopilot.

“Reiner--” Bertholdt began, not able to quell the urge to stay silent any longer. Something was definitely wrong with Reiner and he needed to make sure he was OK.

“Stop the car.” His friend suddenly blurted, and Bertholdt noted with a blooming sense of dread, the panic in his voice.

“What?”

“I said, stop the car!” He could see it now – He was hyperventilating and sweat was glistening on his forehead.

Not needing to be asked for a third time, Bertholdt quickly pulled over in the nearest vacant spot. They were driving through the Central Park West before his friend abruptly demanded he’d cease doing so. As soon as Bertholdt killed the engine, Reiner immediately pulled open the door and almost fell on his knees as he hurriedly clambered outside. Bertholdt clumsily unbuckled his own seat belt, while he kept an eye on his friend whom was bent over and clutching his own knees, shoulders heaving. Bertholdt locked his car before he practically ran to his friend's side. He stopped dead in his tracks a few inches away from his companion, suddenly feeling he’d violate his personal space if he stepped any closer. He watched for a few minutes as his friend fought to breathe normally again and Bertholdt felt a lump forming in his throat at his visible distraught. He wished he could do more for him but, he knew he needed to let him calm down a bit first.

Reiner straightened up after a while, his breathing seemingly returning to normal before he staggered toward the nearest bench. He collapsed down on it unceremoniously, before he rested his head in his palms. Bertholdt stood awkwardly watching him from a distance before he deemed it appropriate to step closer. He walked towards his friend with heavy, reluctant steps until he was stood next to him. He hesitantly took a seat beside him, carefully keeping some distance between them, lest he upsets him.

For a few minutes, they were silent. The only sounds that could be heard were of the cars passing them. Fortunately, there weren’t many people walking by, so it allowed them some much needed privacy.

“Sorry.” Reiner apologized for the third time that night, lowering down his hands and folding them instead in his lap.

Bertholdt furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You don’t have to apologize.” It was hardly his fault for having a panic attack. “Do you want to talk about it?” Bertholdt began again, testing the waters.

Reiner was quiet for a moment again, and Bertholdt worried if he had pushed him a bit too far. He was ready to apologize and reassure him he shouldn’t feel obligated to share with him whatever bugged him before Reiner nodded weakly.

He took a deep breath, seemingly in an effort to gather his thoughts before he spoke again.

“I went on a date with, um, a colleague of mine – a-a teacher. English, he taught English at our school.” Reiner stammered, voice shaky despite his clear efforts to compose himself.

“Did he treat you kindly?” Bertholdt asked him measuredly. Going on a date with a colleague hardly seemed a legit reason to get this panicky.

“Yes, yes. He did. He was, uh, really nice actually. And sweet.” Bertholdt felt himself relax when he saw the small smile that pulled at his lips “We went to an Italian restaurant that basically looked like a garden and the food was and... We-I really had a good time.” Reiner concurred, nodding as if to convince himself of his own words.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” Bertholdt frowned – this definitely didn’t seem like a possible source of his chagrin. Was Reiner hiding something from him?

“And then, he, uh... kissed me.” Reiner closed his eyes then, his Adam apple bobbing up and down before he spoke again “And it felt so awful.”

“So, you didn’t like him?” Bertholdt cocked his head in question “Not a big deal then! You guys just didn’t click.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Reiner turned to look at him then, and Bertholdt felt taken aback by the sadness in his eyes. “I liked him, a lot. At least I thought so. And I know he liked me too. It’s just--” Reiner fell quiet again and sighed. He looked miserable. Bertholdt wished he could make him feel better. He stopped himself from instinctively reaching for Reiner’s hand as he remembered how badly the latter reacted earlier for his attempt at physical contact. He nodded encouragingly instead to let his friend know he was listening and that he could trust him with whatever bothered him.

“I didn’t want anything more while he did. And I felt so bad.”

“Again, why is that such a bad thing? It’s OK if you didn’t like him as much as he did so, you don’t have to feel obligated to go out with him just because he’s nice.” Bertholdt reasoned carefully, his brows knitting in confusion. He was baffled that he was explaining this to Reiner, when he was just repeating his friend’s own words to him when they were younger and was asked out by a nice girl.

“You don’t--You... You don’t understand.” Reiner argued feebly.

“Then tell me.” Bertholdt prompted him gently “Reiner, talk to me. We’re friends, right?”

Reiner was silent again, wringing his fingers together in a nervous gesture. He exhaled softly, the muscles on his neck straining despite his attempts to regain his composure. Bertholdt wished he could let him get closer, touch him, try to release the knots in his tense shoulders – _anything_ to make him feel slightly better.

The wall that those seven past years had built between them wasn’t seeming to crumble completely, even after three months Bertholdt hopelessly tried to bond with his childhood friend.

“These last ten years or so of my life, I... didn’t change.” Reiner started carefully. Bertholdt arched an eyebrow quizzically. What was that was supposed to mean?

“I... still slept around like I did, back in Idaho.” Reiner finished, swallowing thickly and Bertholdt felt his heart sink in his boots upon hearing this revelation.

“Reiner...” Bertholdt sighed, sounding more irritated than he wanted to let on.

“I don’t need you to judge me too. OK?” His friend spat angrily “If you’re going to go about how it’s not Ketchum and how it’s dangerous, then I don’t need to hear it, OK? I’ve already heard all versions of preachy speeches about how much irresponsible and careless I’m being. I’m not in the fucking mindset to sit through another one now.”

“OK, I’m not going to.” Bertholdt raised his hands in front of him in a placating gesture “I’m really here to listen, not judge you.” At his reassurance of coming only in peace, Reiner visibly relaxed, shoulders slumping as he let out a heavy exhale.

“I’m sorry. You’re already doing so much for me; picking me up and bringing me here. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“No, no. It's OK. And you don’t have to feel like you owe me or something – Reiner, you’re my friend so it’s practically my job to make sure you’re OK, even if it’s the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning.” This time, Bertholdt did reach for his hand and was delighted when Reiner didn’t flinch and yank his hand away. He even relaxed when Bertholdt squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you.” Reiner whispered, suddenly bashful, “It really means a lot to me that you came.”

“Anytime.” Bertholdt patted his hand before he retracted his own back “So, what’s it having to do with your date?”

Reiner’s leg was twitching and Bertholdt resisted the urge to not ask him to hold still, the motion unnerving him.

“Well, I think something is wrong with me.” Reiner chuckled dryly.

“Nothing is wrong with you. It’s fine if you didn’t like someone.” Bertholdt reiterated his earlier statement, shaking his head in disbelief. Perhaps he didn’t know everything about Reiner or what has been going on in his life but, he knew one thing didn’t change at least – He still, and often, blamed himself for things that were out of control. Ever since he was a kid, he had always been hard on himself.

“It’s not just that I didn’t like someone.” Reiner ran his hand on his face in apparent frustration “I think I don’t like _anyone_. Or rather, I **can’t** like anyone.”

“You mean, like--”

“No, not in the sense that I’m aromantic or asexual. I know I’m neither of those things. I know in my heart that I want the opposites of both those things.” He groaned in irritation before saying again “I just... can’t deal with anyone liking me back and the whole relationship thing.”

“But you wanted those things. You always did--” Bertholdt said, genuinely puzzled.

“No, I never did. And I think I never will.” Reiner whispered with finality. He looked so sad.

“Why not? Why don’t you want to be in love or have someone special in your life?” Bertholdt asked carefully.

“Because it’ll hurt.” Reiner uttered grimly “If I let my guard down, I’ll give them a chance to hurt me when...” _When they leave me._ Bertholdt knew that it would always circle back to his dad. Bertholdt hated that man more than he would ever be capable to loathe someone. He was a fool for leaving someone as brilliant and kind-hearted as Reiner.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone you’ll feel differently about them.” Bertholdt smiled warmly at him, albeit to no avail.

“Bertholdt...”

“I mean it! You’re a great guy!” Reiner rolled his eyes at his statement and Bertholdt raised his index “And I’m not just saying this because you’re my friend. You’re smart, you’re handsome and you’re really kind. Someday you’re going to charm a good guy, not the assholes you’re thinking about who’d let you down or break your heart. But someone you deserve.” Bertholdt sighed, resigned. He really wanted Reiner to realize his own worth. He hated seeing him this crestfallen.

“How do you know that?” Reiner whispered, suddenly self-conscious. If it wasn’t for the soft streetlights illuminating his face, Bertholdt would’ve missed the light pink dusting his cheeks.

“Because I know you. You’re the best man I’ve ever known in my life and I don’t doubt it, not even for a second, that you’ll be able to find the love of your life.” Bertholdt inched closer to where his friend was seated.

“How did you know Annie was the one for you?” Reiner asked him softly, and turned to look at him. He looked genuinely curious. Bertholdt smiled fondly at him.

“I don’t know. I guess I saw her one day – that day – on the rink and my mind immediately thought ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with her’. And you see? It all worked out in the end.” Bertholdt grinned even wider but, Reiner didn’t share his enthusiasm. He suddenly looked...solemn again.

A heavy silence settled between them. Bertholdt squirmed in his seat as he tried to think about what would’ve caused his friend’s mood to sour in the moment of seconds. Did he say something wrong? Did he somehow offend him? Bertholdt was utterly clueless.

“It’s late.” Reiner stood up abruptly, jolting Bertholdt from his racing thoughts “We should get going.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Bertholdt followed him on his heels. This wasn’t right. He didn’t want them to part on this note.

“Reiner.” He called for his friend again as he walked behind him.

“What is--” Reiner uttered a small sound of surprise when Bertholdt engulfed him in a gentle embrace. He stiffened immediately under his touch and didn’t seem willing to return his embrace.

No matter how many times Bertholdt thought the walls his friend built around him were falling down, he was always quick to raise his guard again every time Bertholdt tried to reach out for him. This was the first time Bertholdt attempted hugging him again after he tactfully evaded his touch the first day they met for coffee.

“I hate to see you beat yourself up like this. Whatever happened to you, whoever hurt you before – they didn’t deserve you. And if anyone tries to, they’ll need to go through me first.”Bertholdt whispered and he couldn’t stop his voice from breaking.

Reiner was quiet for a few moments and they stood there, still. He didn’t return his hug but, he didn’t push him away either. Bertholdt inhaled deeply as he took in the smell of aftershave and the faint scent of cigarettes – it was almost as if they were fifteen again. Reiner still smelled the same as he did back then.

“Thank you.” Reiner said in a small voice.

Bertholdt sighed contentedly when he felt him rest his head on his shoulder. He didn’t get him to return his hug but, his hands resting gently and softly squeezing his forearms might’ve been the most he could get and he was fine with it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter has mention of an implied car accident.

**Porco**

Porco knocked frantically at the wooden door in front of him. He heard shuffling from inside followed by a muffled _“coming"_ before the door was swung open, revealing Pieck. Her raven hair was disheveled, and she was wearing her reading glasses. She was also chewing, loudly. Cereals, judging by how she sounded as if she was munching on twigs and dead animal bones. Porco winced at the nerve-racking noise.

“Morning...” Pieck croaked, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You’ve just woken up?” Porco walked past her down the hallway, faintly hearing the door clicking shut behind him.

“It’s Saturday – my day off, like the rest of the American citizens. I can sleep through the alarm and until nine in the morning.” She muttered sulkily, stifling a yawn.

“Oh yeah. Sorry. I forgot you’re not allowed on our special _guys-_ weekend.” Porco sniggered, before he plopped down on the sofa.

“Yes, Pock. You can totally see how bummed I am for not spending two days in a car stinking of sweat and urine, the only meal l'd be filling my stomach with is highly-salted Jerky.” Pieck retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“That was five years ago. We upgraded.” Porco rolled his eyes at her. Perhaps it was a good thing they banned her from their annual trip to Chicago.

Porco and Reiner have been going on their ritualistic road trip from New York all the way to the state of Illinois for the last five years. It was how they actually started bonding back in college and became best friends. In the first two years, they used to drive for twenty-two hours, nonstop, and without a map. Their only meals consisted of eating beef Jerky and drinking Mountain Dew – that was how they got through the night without needing to sleep more than two hours. They'd eventually stop at a restaurant to eat an undercooked Pizza or a too greasy burger before they’d hit the road again back to campus. Throughout the years, however, Porco liked to think they got better with their planning. They have settled for a better itinerary after browsing multiple forums and reddit threads. As a result, their trip has eventually stretched into a two-day get-away. Thankfully, Monday was _Memorial Day_ and even if it wasn’t the appropriate way to mourn the deceased and honor the US Army, they both appreciated having the day off, given their busy schedules with their respective jobs. They've also forsaken surviving on salted meat and opted to eat regular, albeit not healthier, meals at various restaurants or pubs, whenever they made a stop.

“Where is _he_ by the way?” Porco asked Pieck, whom was seated by his side, still munching on her Fruit Loop. “Don’t tell me he’s not up yet?” They were already behind their schedule since they were supposed to be hitting the road half an hour ago.

“I’m not.” Reiner uttered as he emerged from his bedroom, a backpack slung on his shoulder “I’m ready to go.”

“Perfect then.” Porco concurred before a thought struck him “Shit, we still have to wait for Bertholdt though.”

“Why didn’t you come together? You’re practically neighbors.” Pieck exclaimed as she set her bowl on the coffee table. 

“He said he was running late so; I’ve headed out without him.”

“Typical Bertholdt.” Pieck shook her head, bemused.

“Or not, he’s already here.” Reiner interjected, before he shoved his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He exited the living room and disappeared in the hallway and, seconds later, Porco could make out Bertholdt’s voice in the distance before he heard the front door clicking shut again.

Bertholdt ducked under the doorframe and Porco resisted the urge to poke fun at him for his height. He stood up from his seat on the couch before gave the taller man a quick hug. 

“Reiner went downstairs to the parking lot.” Bertholdt informed him after he pulled away from Pieck’s embrace.

“We should head out then.” Porco checked for the third time the inside of his duffel bag. Yep, he hadn’t forgotten anything he needed.

“Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” Pieck said monotonously from her seat while she sipped on her coffee.

“Why aren’t you coming with us?” Bertholdt cocked an eyebrow in question.

“Sorry, but I enjoy leisure time differently.” Pieck shrugged.

“We kicked her out because she couldn’t stand any music we listened to and forced us once to listen to a horror story. Having the narrator–an old, kind-sounding man–yell “IT'S BEHIND YOU!!!” to a sobbing girl who just lost her puppy, isn't exactly something I look forward to listen to again. I’ve hit the brakes then so hard, the car almost rolled over.” Porco shuddered at the memory, still not believing they escaped death then.

“OK, fair enough.” Bertholdt chuckled when Pieck huffed in annoyance.

“Plus," Porco's voice dropped to that of a whisper "she pees a lot. Like _hourly_.” The red-headed chanced a glance to where Pieck was. She hadn’t heard him. Good.

“So, what are we listening to?” Reiner asked as he turned on the ignition and pulled out of their apartment’s driveway. Porco hated this part of the trip the most. It usually took them close to three hours to get out of the New York’s heavy traffic before they made it to Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania.

“Uh, why are you even asking this? We’re listening to the Jerky Boys like we always do.” Porco frowned.

“Actually, I’ve made up a Playlist yesterday; a bit of Queen, Quo, and--” Bertholdt passed over a CD from his spot in the backseat to Reiner, who promptly slid it in the CD player, without question. Reiner’s face broke in a wide grin as the beginning rift of _The Man Who Sold the World_ started playing.

“Your favorite.” Bertholdt mirrored his enthusiasm with his own smile.

Porco groaned in exasperation. “Uh, not _mine_.” He scoffed. Both of his companions stayed silent, choosing to ignore his snide remark and enjoy the music. Reiner was already singing along with his terrible voice. Bertholdt was even humming, albeit more softly. Porco regretted not having brought his headphones. Suddenly, he realized he wouldn't have minded Pieck coming along and making them listen to one of her audiobooks instead. He'd take any horror story than Reiner’s tone-deaf, excuse of singing. He could picture Kurt Cobain rolling in his grave at the horrendous sound.

It was already mid-day and Porco was fanning himself with a takeaway menu in vain. It was the last week of May and the weather got significantly warmer as Summer was approaching. Porco was having a rough time adjusting to the hellacious weather – he had never liked the heat. True, he's been living in New York for the last six years but, it didn’t mean his body would easily acclimate to the humidity. Porco hated the way his light t-shirt was sticking to his chest. He could also feel sweat running down his back and Porco dreaded getting up with a wet spot on the back of his jeans.

Reiner was also being an asshole for refusing to turn on the AC, because it was "too early in their drive and would wear out the car’s battery". A quick glance over his shoulder made him suspect Berthold felt just as resentful of the absence of cooler air. He looked on the verge of fainting.

Damn Reiner for always feeling colder than the average person. He couldn’t see a single sheen of sweat on his forehead. How was that even humanly possible?

Thankfully, they almost reached Pennsylvania, which meant they would make a stop soon and drink cold water. Hopefully, they could also eat lunch because Porco was sure the stifling heat made him burn the few calories from the oatmeal he had eaten at seven in the morning.

Porco couldn’t believe how Bertholdt was this chill about the scorching heat inside the car. Granted, he was sweating profusely and didn’t seem to mind that his water wasn’t as ice-cold as it has been in the first hour they started driving, given that he still brought the jug of water to his lips almost every five minutes. Still, he looked like he was enjoying himself. He hadn’t complained about Reiner’s wicked singing, not even once. He had stopped humming along the tunes but, he looked further from bored or disinterested. Reiner had a similar relaxed expression, seemingly relishing in the feel of the hot air on his face. It made his hair stand wildly all over the place. He looked ridiculous, and Porco was tempted to snap a picture of him looking this idiotic. It might come in handy some day when he'd need to convince him that they should go to the Playwright Irish pub instead of their ten-feet-away-from-home bar.

Porco frowned again when he heard Reiner laugh heartfully the moment a song the red-headed didn’t recognize started playing. The sound was soon followed by Bertholdt’s own, quite unusual, giggle.

Not that he hadn’t seen Reiner enjoying himself before, but Porco felt puzzled by how often it had become.

Porco and Pieck had their own theories that regarded their best friend’s recent, pleasant mood. Porco was adamant the blond was dating a guy whom he had yet to introduce to them. Perhaps it was even the same English teacher he went on a date with at the start of the month. Porco had pestered Reiner to divulge any detail–hell, even the salacious ones in case they went further than just dinner–to no avail. Porco thought maybe Reiner was just taking it slow and trying to figure things out first before telling them. Pieck shook her head dismissively at his assumption.

 _"Ade told me it didn’t end well–Reiner practically bailed on him. Like, early in the evening.”_ She had told him one evening on the bar, when Reiner had excused himself to go the restroom. _"OK... and did Reiner tell you why he did so?”_ Porco had asked her then, curious. _“No, he didn’t say a word even though he was back home a couple of hours later than when Ade said he dropped him off.”_ Pieck shrugged before she took a sip from her pink cocktail _“He avoided talking about his date altogether. Or rather, anything about Adrian because, he really went into the tiniest details about the Italian restaurant they ate dinner at._ ” Porco cringed then. Maybe it didn’t go as well as he hoped it would so, Reiner was trying to forget about it. He was sure Pieck must've made it hard for him as she wasn’t the subtlest person when she needed gossip. _“Must’ve been awkward at work then. Poor guy.”_ Porco had remarked, feeling a shudder as he recollected a similar incident when he had a one-night stand with a colleague of his. He couldn’t look her in the eyes for the following two weeks before she approached him about and reassured him that they were cool.

 _“Not at all!”_ Pieck had exclaimed in response _“It was like they didn’t even go out. They were very civil and even friendly toward each other.”_

Porco still couldn’t shake off the feeling that Reiner was hiding something from them. He knew he shouldn’t meddle too much in his love affairs but, he kept insisting that Reiner was seeing someone else, not specifically his colleague. Pieck wasn’t convinced, despite both of them knowing that Reiner could be quite secretive about some aspects of his life. Until–

 _I think it’s_ _Bertholdt,_ she had texted him one Saturday evening, when she was sat alone in the apartment, since Reiner was hanging out with his “new” friend. Porco had inhaled then so much smoke in shock, before a fit of cough racked his body. He swiped at the tears that formed in his eyes, still coughing weakly before he sent her a single _WTF!_

_I don’t mean it in the sense that they’re seeing each other - Pieck_

_Ye cos that guy is fking engaged. But in what sense did u mean it - Porco_

_As in friends. Reiner is just happy he’s friends_ _again with_ _Bert - Pieck_

_U think it’s that simple? No feelings involved even if Reiner used to be like in love with him or some shit? - Porco_

_Yeah... I think they’re just friends having fun and bonding. And that’s nice. Perhaps it was everything reiner needed all along and he had just been miserable he wasn’t talking to the guy whom once was his best friend - Pieck_

Porco had found it hard to disagree with her, although it had made him wary for some reason that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Earth to Porco Galliard.” Reiner’s voice jolted him from his turmoil and Porco fought the urge to cuss at him. “Welcome to Wilkes Barre.” Their driver practically sing-sung. Porco wasn’t sure he was thrilled about this new side of him.

“Are we making a stop at a gas station or something, anytime soon? I can’t take this blazing heat a minute longer.” Porco complained, fanning himself with the damp takeaway menu to further emphasize his statement. It was practically dripping wet from his sweaty hands.

“Yeah, you look like a sweaty piglet.” Reiner snorted mockingly, followed by a light chuckle from behind them.

“Bro, you gotta dial back on the Mountain Dew.” Reiner hasn’t called him _that_ in years.

Yep, he really didn’t like this side of him at all. True, he was more laid back and enjoying himself and both were good things, considering his... circumstances. Still, Porco would need some time to get used to these new quirks of his.

Porco decided he was too dehydrated to bicker with him so, he gazed instead at the scenery that rushed outside his window. The sun was still searing on his skin–he was thankful for bringing in his sunglasses and his own sun block, which he reapplied it at least twice during the whole drive, silently grateful that neither Reiner nor Bertholdt commented on it–but the greenery that stretched in front of him, without a single building in sight, was breathtaking and an appreciated distraction from the oppressive heat.

They drove for another half hour before they exited the highway and reached the city. Finally. He could ask Reiner to drop them at Rodano’s. Reiner would certainly argue that it was Saturday and lunch time, so the place would be packed with patrons, and would waste more time waiting for their food when they’d need to hit the road soon for Williamsport. Of course, they could get takeaway but, Reiner banned everyone from eating inside his car. He didn’t blame him much. Pieck once came in with an extra-large ice cream and dripped half of it on the backseat.

Unexpectedly, Reiner didn’t fight him much on his suggestion. He agreed they were all starved by now and Rodano’s served one of the best bagels in PA. Bertholdt had never been to this state before, so he just shrugged and said he’d trust them both for it. He was too hungry anyway to care where to eat.

As soon as Reiner pulled over on the opposite driveway–there were no vacant parking spots in front of the restaurant as expected–Porco almost fell on his knees as he clambered outside. He practically ran across the street, desperate to get to a cooler place. He sighed in relief as soon as he stepped inside and relished the air conditioner’s soothing breeze as soon as it blew on his warm skin. He heard Reiner breathe in content behind him. Damn him. why was he pretending he didn’t mind the heat when he was just as hot as they were?

Porco glanced across his shoulder to give him a piece of his mind before he noticed someone was amiss.

“Where’s Bertholdt?” Porco furrowed his brows in confusion.

“He said he’d stay outside for a bit. Needed some fresh air.” Reiner shrugged, as he started scanning the place for a vacant table. Porco followed his gaze and spotted one on the far end. Perfect–right under the AC. This was heaven on earth.

 _“This_ is fresher air than the eighty-five degrees outside.” Porco pointed to their surroundings, a snort escaping him.

“He’ll catch up soon.” Reiner concurred before he took his own seat by the window. Porco fell heavily on his, feeling relieved to be able to stretch his legs properly.

They were both silent as they flipped through their menus. Porco was definitely going to get bagels, although he debated whether or not he should get the salmon or the beef filling.

He looked outside the window absentmindedly as he waited for the waiter to come and get their orders, and for Bertholdt to come inside. He was really taking his sweet time lounging in the sizzling heat.

A small commotion on the other side of the window caught his attention and Porco moved back in his seat to have a better peek of what was going on. He felt his heart sink in his boots as he made out the black mop of hair, its owner half-laying down on the tarmac underneath him. His dehydrated brain struggled to put two and two together but, he managed to in the end. He reached instinctively for Reiner’s arm, shaking him violently. His friend startled and swore under his breath “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Bertholdt. He’s–” Before he could finish, Reiner’s gaze was torn from his to his left. He immediately staggered out of his chair, the wooden furniture falling on the ground, before he raced outside, bumping into other customers and earning himself a few muttered curses.

Porco followed him suit, even if slightly slower and more careful to not anger any patrons. He took in the scene in front of him as soon as he stepped outside.

Reiner was kneeling beside Bertholdt, who seemed to struggle with keeping himself upright, for some reason. Porco was faced with Reiner's back, and he didn’t miss the way his whole body seemed to quake.

“I’ve called 911 already.” An older woman clutching the hand of a young girl, informed them, voice trembling.

“Did you see what happened?” Porco asked her, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage.

“I just got here and found him.” The woman shook her head violently “He called for me, asked me to bring him his phone–it was right there, and he couldn’t reach for it.” She pointed out vaguely to a further spot on the front porch of the restaurant. 

“A car hit him, he told me–went right over his leg. It didn’t even stop!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.  
> \-----  
> PSA: There will be no new chapter next Sunday. I can't speak about the following week for now.  
> Also, small reminder that comments and feedback are always welcome and fuel an author to write more. This story hasn't been getting much feedback lately and I have to admit, it had further worsened my writer's block.  
> Looking forward to hear from you all x


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Enjoy xx

**Porco**

Porco felt his stomach turn to lead as soon as the morose news left the older lady’s lips. He thanked her absentmindedly before he walked toward Reiner and Bertholdt. From his spot behind them both, he could tell how bad it was; Bertholdt’s legs were resting on the beaten tarmac, motionless. He didn’t need extensive medical knowledge to know he couldn’t move for one obvious reason–his right leg was broken. 

However, for someone who had to withstand such a grave injury, Bertholdt was astonishingly quiet. Reiner was cradling his head against his chest, and when Porco stepped forward and looked down at his companions, he saw that Bertholdt just chose to suffer in silence. His face had gone remarkably pale, contorted in an anguished expression. His breath was coming out in harsh pants, and he was fisting Reiner’s shirt tightly, the defined muscles of his arms bulging with his fierce grip on the thin fabric. Porco knelt in front of him and squeezed his arm in what he hoped was comforting gesture. 

“Help is coming soon. Hold on there, buddy.” Porco whispered gently, and Bertholdt nodded forcefully. He was frankly superhuman for managing his pain this silently. Porco wouldn’t have blamed him if he had broken into sobs, or screamed his lungs out in agony. 

A quick glance to his other friend made Porco’s sweat run cold down his back. Reiner wasn’t the one who was hurt but, he looked just as terrible. His face had gone the color of leafy paper, as if the blood was drained from his veins. His breathing was labored, almost in sync with Bertholdt’s, and he was slowly rocking them both.

“Hey, Reiner.” Porco whispered, tentatively “Hey, you’re OK. Bertholdt is OK.” 

He reached for his shoulder, and felt stung when Reiner yanked his arm away, before he cradled Bertholdt’s head again in his right hand. “It’s OK, you’re OK, you’ll be fine. We're fine. This’ll be over. I've got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you...” Porco heard him murmur in his raven hair. 

He had seen this before. Porco swallowed the lump forming in his throat as his mind took him back to the previous year, when he saw him sitting on the bathroom’s floor besides the tub, hugging his knees to his chest, mumbling words Porco could barely understand. 

The sound of the ambulance’s siren jarred him from his queasy thoughts. Porco jumped from his seat, feeling momentarily relieved. 

“They’re here. Reiner, Bertholdt.” Porco breathed, heart still racing wildly “Help is here. You’re OK, buddy. They've got you.” 

Porco filled the paramedics on the details of the accident. Bertholdt couldn’t provide them with much, except for grunting or nodding weakly either in affirmation or in denial to their standard questions. Reiner gave them a hard time when they politely demanded he releases the car accident's victim from his hold. He shook his head stubbornly, and Porco winced sympathetically when he saw tears flowing down his cheeks. The blond eventually acquiesced, though with palpable reluctance. Porco quickly moved to his side and put his arm around his shoulders–a feeble attempt to offer some kind of emotional, and even physical, support. He practically dragged Reiner away from the scene in front of them before they both stood on the side, Porco noting how dazed the blond looked. He hadn’t uttered a word since he had left his friend’s side. Porco watched attentively as the paramedics meticulously checked Bertholdt's vitals, and proceeded with their thorough examination. He felt relief wash over him when they announced to them that he didn’t seem to have suffered any vital injury so far. Nonetheless, he needed to be transferred to the nearest hospital. 

“He looks OK. I mean, except for his leg. But his life isn’t in danger. That’s good.” Porco rambled on in an effort to reassure his best friend. Although, he suspected he was also trying to convince himself of his own words. A furtive glance to his right confirmed to him that his efforts were fruitless–Reiner was barely listening to him. His gaze was fixated on the commotion in front of him instead. He hardly even twitched, and stood still, as if grounded to the floor. 

The paramedics were strapping Bertholdt safely on the stretcher, before they pushed him toward the ambulance’s back door. “We’ll follow them in the car. I’ll drive. You don’t have to worry, and try to keep it together.” Porco rested his hand on Reiner’s shoulder, and shook him lightly when the other failed to respond. 

“Can I come with him?” Reiner asked out of the blue, suddenly regaining his speech ability. He practically ran toward the ambulance as soon as one of the rescues nodded. Before Porco could even begin to process his actions, they were already driving away from him. 

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath. Standing under the sweltering sun was suddenly unbearable so, he rushed toward Reiner’s car. In his understandable haste earlier, his friend had left his car keys on their table. Porco was thankful for his reflexes to kick in at the time. He quickly turned on the ignition, and unlocked his phone before he looked up the hospital’s location. Having a clear itinerary, he pulled out of the driveway and braced himself for what was to come. 

Porco navigated the ER’s corridors with some difficulties, bumping and apologizing instinctively for every nurse, doctor or attendant he ran into. Reiner was neither picking up his calls, nor was he responding to his messages. He could tell he was shaken, shocked even, and Porco excused him for it. That had been objectively quite the unsightly scene to witness. He hoped he would be alright though. He worried for Bertholdt immensely but, he couldn’t help not fear for his best friend’s mental wellbeing. He couldn’t shake off his brain his vacant expression when he enfolded Bertholdt in his arms, holding onto him for dear life. 

Porco was thankful for the intern who informed him of his friends' whereabouts. He knew they were busy and overworked but, he was appreciative of those who took a minute to stop and listen to people’s concerns. And just as they said, there was Reiner stood waiting outside of the X-Ray unit. He was turning his back to him, but Porco could tell how much on edge he was, with the way he was jumping from foot to foot. Porco cleared his throat reluctantly, and winced when Reiner startled. He instinctively turned around and visibly relaxed when he noticed Porco’s presence. 

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Porco began, as he walked briskly toward him. 

“I’m-I'm, uh, I don’t know, I–I think it was on silent.” Reiner stammered, as he kept glancing behind him. 

“What did the doctors say?” Porco asked, suddenly anxious. Reiner’s agitation was rubbing on him, and Porco realized that _he_ needed to hold it together for both their sakes. 

“They, uh, they don’t know yet. He needs an X-ray so they could see what kind of fracture he has or something.” 

“Just his leg, then?” Porco breathed in relief that their friend’s life was in fact in no immediate danger. Reiner didn’t think the same though, with the way his gaze turned cold in the matter of seconds. 

_“Just his leg?”_ Reiner said in a low, dangerous voice. 

“Reiner-” Porco recoiled, thrown-off by his friend’s abrupt change of demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind breaking your leg, and walking on crutches for two or three months.” Reiner spat, snidely. 

“I didn’t mean it-” Porco raised his hands, placating, but Reiner didn’t look like he wanted to hear his input. 

“Or, you know, have it amputated because some fucking drunk dickwad grinded it under the wheels of his Jeep, and crushed all the muscle and vessels inside. Any twenty-six-year-old would just be _thrilled_ about that.” 

“Reiner, please–do you want to sit down?” Porco asked carefully. When Reiner failed to answer him, he led him with a gentle hand on his back to one of the benches nearby. Reiner fell heavily on one of the seats. He watched as his best friend ran his hand through his flaxen hair before resting his head in his palms. This trip has really gone downhill in ways they never could’ve predicted. 

“I’m sorry.” Reiner mumbled in his hands. 

“Hey, no problem.” Porco squeezed his shoulder before he settled in his own seat, the bench creaking under both of their weights. 

“It’s just...when they cut the leg of his pants, his-his shin was...” Reiner released a shaky breath, almost choking on a pained sob. 

Porco wished for the second time that day that Pieck was with them. She would’ve known how to comfort Reiner and say the right words to make him feel better. She was much more empathetic and tactful than he could ever be. He wondered if Reiner wished the same too. 

Porco shook his head as if the motion could prevent his own brain from wondering places he didn’t want to venture in. Not now. Reiner needed him to be strong for them both, and he will just be that. 

As if on cue, the door to the X-ray unit swung open, and seconds later, a nurse was pushing Bertholdt on a wheelchair. His injured leg was secured in a blue splint. He looked dizzy, sleepy even. Probably the effect of some pain drugs. Porco couldn’t even imagine how much aching Bertholdt must’ve been, and he was solaced to know that they were able to make it bearable for him. 

Reiner immediately rushed to his side, falling into steps with them "How's he doing? Is he OK? What did the X-ray show?” Reiner inquired relentlessly, desperately trying to get any appeasing news that the nurse could disclose. 

“I can’t say anything for now. We need a doctor to read it first, and they’ll tell you how he’s doing, sir.” The young nurse smiled gently. 

“Where do we find him? Who are we looking for? Are you taking us to them?” 

“The resident in the ER will look at it, then they will inform about your... um, Mr. Hoover’s condition.” She explained patiently to him. Whatever modicum of composure Reiner had been able to regain earlier soon vanished. 

Porco trailed behind them silently, knowing he had nothing else to add or demand of the older looking nurse. Minutes later, after maneuvering themselves gingerly between the crowds of patients’ families and companions, they finally reached the emergency room again. The health worker instructed them to wait until they called for Bertholdt’s name from the examination box. Reiner was clutching the radiograph tightly, gaze boring daggers into it as if he could suddenly acquire the medical knowledge to interpret it accurately. 

The hours passing felt like an eternity, and Porco thanked every god the moment they heard Bertholdt’s name being called. Reiner has been pacing the cramped trauma unit back and forth, stopping abruptly every once in a while, and holding up the radiograph towards a light source in the hope that he could determine their friend’s prognosis. Bertholdt obviously wasn’t doing anything, but wasn’t saying much either. Porco was trying to lighten up the mood by talking about trivial things, Bertholdt not participating much save for humming in agreement or mumbling short, non-committal answers. He had also nodded off for the last thirty minutes. 

Reiner immediately rushed to his side as soon as her heard Bertholdt’s name through the speakers, before he shook him by his shoulders gently. 

“Hey, we’re getting a doctor to look at you now.” Reiner spoke ever so softly, kneeling down beside the brunet. Bertholdt merely hummed in response as he slowly took in his surroundings. Porco watched as he raised his own hand sluggishly, resting it on top of Reiner’s trembling one on his shoulder. 

“Alright, Mr. Hoover,” the doctor addressed his patient as he put up the radiograph on the X-ray viewer “Let’s see.” He drummed his fingertips on his stubbled chin for a few seconds, as if in thought. 

“Is he alright, doc?” Reiner wanted to know, voice precarious. 

“Ah,” The young physician uttered suddenly, “there’s your fracture line–see the inclined white, thin line?” Porco squinted his eyes to make out what the doctor pointed with his index “That’s where the two shin-bones were broke from the violent impact of the car’s wheels.” He explained, tone apologetic. 

“Just my rotten luck then.” Bertholdt remarked dryly. 

“What does that mean for him?” Reiner blurted in response “How do we fix it?” 

“Well, I have both good and bad news.” The doctor crossed his arms in front of his chest “The good news being that you’ll be up on your feet and running about in ten to twelve weeks.” Right, as if being unable to walk like any regular human being for three consecutive months was the most comfortable thing.

And those were his good news. Porco swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. 

“And the bad news?” Bertholdt asked tentatively, voice suddenly smaller. 

“You’re going to need surgery.” The clinician spelled out, carefully. 

“When?” Reiner breathed. 

“Now, or in the following couples of hours, depending if the surgeon is busy with another operation right now. I’ll give them a phone call to inform them of Mr. Hoover’s diagnosis. Luckily, the bones aren’t protruding, and the skin wasn’t broken so there will be no need for antibiotics first.” 

“Is surgery even mandatory?” Reiner inquired skeptically “Can’t he just be on splints or a cast until it heals?” 

“That would’ve been possible, or rather, recommended if the fragments of the two broken bones didn’t move out of place. Which as you can see, is not the case.” He pointed to the X-ray again and true enough, even with his very limited to non-existent medical knowledge, he could tell the bones weren’t aligned anymore. 

“Can we get a second opinion?” Reiner spat, uncharacteristically enraged. Porco felt someone tug at his shirt. He instinctively glanced to his right–Bertholdt was looking at him pleadingly. Porco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He didn’t know what he meant by that look. 

“Sure, I can ask the senior resident for a more expert opinion but, I assure you, he won’t tell you anything different from what I’ve said.” 

“We’d still like to do just–” 

“I’ll go with it. Surgery, that is.” Bertholdt interrupted. All eyes were suddenly drawn to him yet, oddly enough, Bertholdt didn’t flinch. 

“Bertholdt-” Reiner turned to look at him, wary. 

“He’s a doctor, he knows what he’s saying. I just want it to be done and over with.” Bertholdt explained. 

“But–” Reiner started, stopping short when Bertholdt reached for his hand. 

“I’ll be fine.” Bertholdt tried to smile reassuringly, though it came off as forced. He evidently relaxed the moment Reiner weaved their fingers, before he nodded weakly. 

“I’ll notify the senior resident of your case, Mr. Hoover. You’ll be transferred to the orthopedic ward so they could prepare you for your intervention. Your ankle hasn’t swelled so they probably won’t make you wait for days for it to recede.” The doctor informed them, in a somewhat rehearsed tone. Bertholdt probably wasn’t the first patient to withstand this type of injuries from a car accident, despite its circumstances being quite unusual. Bertholdt shouldn’t have crossed the road while texting so, some drunkard passing by didn’t bump into him and make him fall face forward. 

“They call it **ORIF** –stands for Open Reduction and Internal Fixation.” Porco read up the results off google “They’ll basically put in metal rods, screws and a-a plate?” Porco knitted his eyebrows in confusion “Shit, I wonder if that wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or, I don’t know–cold. Cause it’s like, cold metal _in_ your bones.” 

Reiner merely hummed in response. Porco quickly chanced a glance to where his companion was sitting beside him, on the benches in front of the operating room. He was slouching his shoulders, visibly upset. His gaze was, however, distant. Porco realized he hadn’t heard him talk for the last hour and half, save for two-syllabled answers here and there. 

“Do you want to get dinner?” Porco cleared his throat awkwardly. It was nearly nine in the evening, and since they had already skipped lunch, Porco’s stomach had been rumbling embarrassingly for the last two hours. He kept reassuring himself that Bertholdt will soon be out of the OR so, that when he would wake up and they could make sure he was alright, they will be free to go fill their stomachs with something other than stale hospital coffee and vending machine snacks. However, they highly underestimated how much longer his surgery will go on for. Or rather, his surgeon did. He didn’t want to dwell on the reasons behind it. Reiner was already doing enough worrying for the both of them. Porco had to yank his hand away at least twice in the course of an hour, every time he caught him gnawing on his cuticles. 

“No.” Reiner replied too quickly “You can go, though.” He added in an afterthought. 

“Bullshit, I’m not leaving you here.” Porco shook his head “We’re both getting out to eat something. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. If you even had breakfast.” 

“I’m not leaving until I know he’s fine.” Reiner reiterated, voice monotone. 

“He will be–he's in the hands of a senior, experienced surgeon. There’s nothing you could do for him.” Porco reminded him. A vain attempt by the way Reiner shook his head vehemently. 

“I don’t care. I’m not hungry, and I’m not moving from here.” Reiner didn’t seem like he would be deterred any time soon “You can go, though–you have my car keys. Go to a hotel and rest. I’ll text you when they’ll be done.” 

“Reiner-” 

“Please.” Reiner looked at him then. Porco took in his exhausted face. He suddenly looked like he hadn’t slept or ate for three days instead of twelve hours. He knew he should refuse, drag him to the nearest restaurant and force food down his throat if needs must. But he also knew that when Reiner had set his mind on something, nothing would convince him to not go through with his plans. Porco hoped sincerely that his friend’s spirits would lift the moment he’d know Bertholdt was OK.

Perhaps he should indulge him this. 

“Are you sure?” Porco attempted one more time, in the unlikely case Reiner changes his mind. 

“Yes. Now, go.” Reiner almost ordered him. 

“I’ll come here as soon as I can.” Porco sighed, conceding defeat. 

Reiner merely nodded and Porco doubted he’d remember his promise the second he’d disappear. 

\-------

Porco groaned loudly, as the sun filtering from behind the curtains to his room hit his face. He reached blindly for his cellphone by the nightstand to check the time. It was fifteen pasts six in the morning. 

_Fuck_

He hadn’t meant to sleep in. He had promised Reiner to go back to the hospital as soon as he could. Although, after having the greasiest burger he had ever eaten in his life, his body felt suddenly heavy and his brain slow. He collapsed on his bed face first the moment he kicked off his sneakers, the day’s exhausting events suddenly catching up to him. 

Porco felt even worse now that Reiner didn’t get to rest as well. He didn’t imagine sleeping on those benches to be very comfortable. Plus, Reiner often complained about back pains, so that wouldn’t do him any favor either. 

Speaking of his best friend–how come there were no missed calls,or even a text from Reiner? Didn’t he promise he’d call him the moment Bertholdt exited the OR? 

Porco felt his stomach into uncomfortable knots. Did this mean that Bertholdt was still undergoing his surgery? Was it standard for it to go over nine hours? 

Porco bolted upright and quickly scanned the hotel room for his shoes, swearing under his breath when he nearly tripped on them in the dim bedroom. He hurriedly exited the hotel and raced toward Reiner’s car, his heart pounding as he listened to his phone go straight to voicemail. 

Shit, did something happen to Bertholdt? 

In his dazed, decaffeinated and denicotined state, Porco struggled to find a rational explanation for Reiner's unresponsiveness. He prayed to god that he would be wrong in his assumptions. 

The drive to the hospital went in a blur, Porco exceeding the speed limit more than once as he tried to make it there in record time. Upon stepping inside, he practically ran toward the lift, stabbing his destination's floor button with a shaky hand. He tried to get his breathing to a normal rate, feeling abruptly claustrophobic inside the cramped lift. He staggered on wobbly knees as soon as the door slid open, revealing a reception box inside which was sat an elderly woman chatting to a coworker. 

“Hello, um, my friend had undergone surgery for a broken ankle yesterday evening. He was supposedly admitted in this ward afterwards.” 

“Can you give me your friend’s name?” The older woman put on her reading glasses before looked at a computer's screen on her desk, for what he assumed was a registry for all the admitted patients. 

“Bertholdt Hoover.” 

“Bertholdt...Hoover...” The attendant trailed quietly as she scanned the numerous lists of names, before she abruptly stopped “Room 603.” 

“Thanks.” Porco breathed, before he headed down the long corridor, searching for his friend’s room. He was at least certain that Bertholdt was alive, and hopefully well. 

And also awake, despite having been under general anesthesia, and it still being the first hours of the morning. 

“Bertholdt. _Jesus_.” Porco uttered in disbelief. He felt a pang of guilt when Bertholdt jolted, the phone he’s been holding in his hands slipping from his grasp. 

“Porco!” 

“Sorry for spooking you.” Porco said sheepishly before he bent down to retrieve his friend’s phone. Not a single scratch on the screen. “Here.” 

“Thanks.” Bertholdt smiled gratefully, his features looking understandably tired. 

“So, how are you?” Porco queried, giving his friend a once over. He couldn’t tell the state of his leg, seeing as it was shielded by a thin blanket. But, Bertholdt looked...remotely normal, except for the IV needle in his hand that was pumping his body with fluids he likely needed. 

“Well, I just have a metal screw jammed in my leg so that’s kind of... a thing. And I’m a bit tired–GA still hasn’t worn off properly.” Bertholdt stifled a yawn, further reinforcing his statement. 

“Why aren’t you asleep then?” Porco cocked his head quizzically. 

“I was going to. I just needed to text Annie that I’ll be going home tomorrow afternoon in crutches.” Bertholdt shrugged nonchalantly. How could he be this chill about this? 

“What’s she saying?” 

“Panicking, the regular amount, hopefully–she hasn’t texted me back actually so...” Bertholdt trailed. 

“No one’s up at six on a Sunday.” Porco tried to lighten up the mood. A successful attempt, given Bertholdt’s genuine smile. 

“Fair enough.” Bertholdt chuckled weakly. 

Porco plopped down on a vacant chair by Bertholdt’s bedside, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders with the knowledge that his friend was doing far better than he had first expected. 

It had struck him then that someone was amiss. 

“Where’s Reiner” Porco asked as soon as he noticed his friend’s absence. He furrowed his brows in confusion when Bertholdt sighed gravely, shoulders slumping heavily. 

“You should’ve never let him reach that state.” Bertholdt reproached him. 

“What state?” Porco’s heart was hammering violently in his chest. 

“He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for sixteen hours straight, and had barely got a wink.” Bertholdt shook his head disapprovingly “He stayed by my side the whole time I was in the recovery unit before a nurse found him on the verge of fainting. She gave him some, uh, sugary fluid, I guess. She was bossy enough, and kind of intimidating, so apparently Reiner didn’t fight her much when she ordered him to drink some water and rest.” Bertholdt smiled softly at the end of his story. 

“I told him he should go eat something and rest in our hotel rooms. He insisted he didn’t want to do neither. You know how stubborn he could get.” Porco argued feebly, cheeks flushing in shame. He knew Reiner better than most and, he knew that he always pushed himself to the far edge until he could no longer take it. 

“Oh, you can tell me.” Bertholdt retorted bitterly "He always fussed about everything, about me. Ever since we were kids.” 

Porco didn’t know what to answer to that, and before he could question Bertholdt any further, the latter’s gaze was torn from his face to a spot behind his shoulder. 

“Reiner.” Bertholdt breathed, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. 

“Hey, you.” Reiner whispered, voice hoarse from sleep. Porco turned to look at their friend behind him. He looked terrible, far worse than he had left him yesterday. Porco felt like kicking himself for having been far more lenient than was needed for his friend’s wellbeing. 

“How are you?” Reiner asked Bertholdt again as he trudged toward his bedside, settling himself atop the edge. 

“I’m fine. Still dizzy from the anesthesia.” Bertholdt explained again “How are _you_ feeling?” 

“I’m not the one who had a car accident and broke his leg.” Reiner deflected tactfully. 

“No, but you’re the one who nearly passed out from dehydration and hypoglycemia.” Bertholdt arched an eyebrow as if daring him to deny it “I don’t think you’re faring that much better.” He supplied. 

“Sorry.” Reiner mumbled, casting his eyes toward his own lap. Bertholdt reached with his hand, resting it gently atop of his friend’s. 

“Hey,” Bertholdt prompted softly “It’s OK. I just worry about you.” 

“So I you.” Reiner muttered; voice suddenly shaky. His chin wobbled before a choked sob escaped his lips. He raised his hand to swipe at tears invisible to Porco from where he was sitting. Bertholdt’s features softened at his friend’s unforeseen vulnerability. 

“Come here.” He requested softly, before he pulled Reiner in the gentlest hug Porco had ever witnessed from them both. Reiner collapsed into his arms without protest, and Porco noted the way Bertholdt’s face contorted with mild discomfort with Reiner having accidentally poked at the IV needle in his left arm. Porco chose not to comment on it. He suddenly felt like he was intruding on something private. 

He watched with eerie fascination the way Bertholdt stroked tenderly Reiner’s back as his body quaked with strangled sobs. He felt mesmerized by the way he gently ran his fingertips through his blond locks, closing his eyes before he rested his forehead on the crown of his friend’s head. 

Porco felt his cheeks heat up. He tore his gaze away from the emotional scene in front of him. He felt like he had witnessed something he shouldn’t have. 

An odd, almost outrageous thought struck him. Porco shot his head around back to where his friends were hugging. The longer he stared, the more Porco couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread that slowly settled in the pit of his stomach. 

He had never wished to be wrong as he did in that moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How wrong do you guys think Porco could be? Let me know in the comments down below!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update today. Happy weekend!  
> Thank you for your kind words, they truly make my day.  
> Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

“Annie’s first match is this Saturday. It’ll mean a lot to us both that you guys will be there.” Bertholdt told him over the phone. 

Reiner sighed in reply. He had just stepped inside his apartment, relieved that it was finally Friday. He made a mental note to ask Pieck and Porco later to hang out at the bar tonight. It's been a while since he last went out for a beer with his best friends. Reiner was usually beat by the time he’d make it home after a long week in the presence of rowdy teenagers, so he often had to skip drinking at the _Amsterdam_ _Ale House_. Porco recently told him that some regular customers started giving them the stinky eye for hogging a four-person booth when they were just two people. Reiner felt a pang of guilt for neglecting his friends. He knew he could’ve hung out with them on Saturday after getting some rest, but that was also the day he and Bertholdt went out for coffee. Or at least it started that way in the earlier months they’ve been trying to rebuild their friendship. Two hours at a coffeeshop soon turned into going out for a drink in bars they haven’t frequented before–he had promised to give Bertholdt a proper tour of the biggest city in the world, the first time they went out for coffee months ago. And sometimes going to the cinema to catch the latest movie. Reiner soon realized he could no longer commit to spend all of his Saturday outside navigating between Brooklyn and Manhattan. So, he had made the selfish choice to favor Bertholdt’s companionship over his oldest friends’. He knew it was uncalled of him to ditch _them_ for the same guy who had practically forgotten he existed for seven years, but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse anything Bertholdt asked from him. 

Just like right now–he couldn’t tell him that he found ice-skating a boring, too chic of a sport to spend at least four hours of his weekend watching, when he could be doing _anything_ _else_ that would be far more entertaining. 

“Alright.” Reiner acquiesced eventually. 

“Oh my god, really?” Bertholdt wondered, unable to conceal the surprise from his tone. 

“I told you so, so...” 

“Thank you,” Bertholdt breathed, and Reiner could tell he was smiling, even when he couldn’t see his face, “It really means so much to me.” 

“Hey, Annie is my friend too. Of course, I’d come.” Reiner tried to argue but, he knew Bertholdt knew that wasn’t the sole reason he’d forsake enjoying his day off on his own terms. “Right. Yes, I know. It’s just... You’ve been nothing but a great friend, even more recently, with my accident and you coming more than twice almost every week to help around. I really can’t think of a way to properly thank you.” Reiner’s heart skipped a beat at how genuine Bertholdt sounded on the phone. He didn’t think Bertholdt owed him anything but, it still felt nice to be appreciated. 

“Oh, it’s fine. I can think of some ways you can pay me back. Maybe, we’ll go see the new Marvel movie when you’re up on your feet again and running about. We could also try the new German restaurant that opened up recently in Third Avenue.” Reiner suggested jokingly, hoping Bertholdt would catch on his playful tone. Maybe not so much about the first one since he knew Bertholdt was fed up with german cuisine, given his german roots from his dad’s side. 

“Anything you want.” Bertholdt chuckled in response. Reiner felt butterflies in his stomach. He's been privy to hearing Bertholdt laugh more and more as time went by, and the novelty of it still hasn’t worn off yet. 

“I’ll text you the address later so...” Bertholdt trailed, jolting Reiner from his reverie. The latter felt his cheeks flush as he realized he had zoned out for the last thirty seconds or so. 

“Yeah. Yes. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Reiner sputtered, mentally trying to ebb his embarrassment away. 

“Tomorrow it is.” Bertholdt said before the line went dead after that. Reiner’s phone remained in its spot by his ear, its owner groaning to himself loudly. 

_I’m such a loser..._

Reiner had never been to the _Abe Stark Sports Center_ in Brooklyn, and even though he had never had neither a knack nor an interest for the kinds of sports the place hosted such as Hockey and ice-skating, Reiner had to admit he was fascinated by the huge crowd of audience that filled the vast stadium. He guessed many people did find this kind of events entertaining after all. 

Reiner scanned quickly the seats in search of Bertholdt, and felt himself grin when he spotted his friend waving at them from the front seats. Reiner and Pieck slowly descended the stairs toward him–Porco had disappeared to purchase some snacks for them–and Pieck thanked the brunet for saving them such strategic spots. 

Reiner was, however, astounded when he saw that Annie still wasn’t at the rink when she was supposed to be... 

“When’s your turn again?” Reiner cocked his head in question, noting the way she was gnawing at her nails, evidently on edge. He didn’t think he had ever seen Annie this stressed about something. 

“In an hour.” Annie replied. Reiner watched as Bertholdt removed her hand gently from her mouth, in a silent reproach. 

“I thought you’d need a better and direct view of your competitors’ show.” 

“Well, I memorized Joseph and Leah’s moves by now. And I may or may not be hiding from my coach, Yulia. She’ll only make me even more nervous.” Annie sat down beside Bertholdt, swearing under her breath when she accidentally knocked his crutches down. 

“Calm down.” Bertholdt said in a measured, rehearsed voice, as if he’d already spoken the same words a dozen times before they came “You’re going to do just fine. Yulia is a great coach, and at least she’s not making you change your program in the last minute and raise your hands in your triple jump.” Reiner hissed at his friend’s latest remark, and watched with dread as Annie’s face fell. 

“Great. Thanks for reminding me of the time I cracked my head open because of my incompetent, stupid coach.” The blonde retorted sarcastically. Reiner had to give her that one–Bertholdt should’ve known better yet, he could unfortunately be very oblivious. 

“I meant it in the sense that she knew what she was doing.” Bertholdt provided, in a hope to salvage his earlier mistake. “Look at how many ice-skaters whom were under her teaching, had made it to Nationals, and even the Olympics.” 

Annie looked like she was having none of it as she stood up from her seat on wobbly knees “Well, right now I’m not even thinking about the Nationals. Honestly, I’m starting to doubt I could even land in a double jump at this point.” 

“Come on, Annie. You _always_ say this before any big competition, and it always works out in the end. If that weren’t the case, you wouldn’t have made it to Regionals in the first place.” Bertholdt reached from his seat with his hand for her own. Annie evaded his touch. 

“Then, maybe I’ve just exhausted all of my fucking luck after my last match, when my competitor sprained her ankle right before she started skating.” Annie grumbled. Reiner felt his heart sink when she pointed at _his_ bracelet which was tied to her wrist “Perhaps, this lucky charm won’t do me any good, given that I’ll be driven to insanity just from sheer nerves.” 

Reiner had desperately tried to push away his wounded feelings whenever he saw Annie wear _his_ gift to Bertholdt. A handmade lucky knot bracelet, that was once his father’s only present to him, when he was seven. “You know,” Reiner forced a smile to his face, before pointing out to her wrist, “you shouldn’t take it off–I can attest to how almost magically this thing works. I’ve once had a Tibetan lucky knot too. I wonder where it ran off.” Reiner fought the urge to chance a glance at Bertholdt, and detect any hint of remorse for what he did, one mistake, one betrayal, amongst many. For his own sake, and Annie’s and Bertholdt’s, he had managed to refrain from speaking up his mind. Reiner was proud of his resilience. 

“I should head down after all.” Annie stood up abruptly, “maybe Yulia would end up being more helpful to ease up my nerves. Cause you guys can’t cheer up someone, even if your lives depended on it.” Annie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She bent down to Bertholdt’s level, pecking him on the lips. Reiner snapped his head around, tearing his gaze from the couple sat next to him. Four months later, and he still felt uneasy any time his two friends displayed affection for each other. 

Reiner watched from his seat as Annie fluidly slid through the ice the moment her competitors exited the rink. It was finally her turn, and Reiner felt the jitters rack his body despite his earlier attempts to calm his nerves. Bertholdt wasn’t faring any better, with the way he was frenetically drumming his fingers on his knees. 

“Oh god, what if she really falls or forgets her moves or–” 

“She’ll be _fine_.” Reiner cuts him short, “she might claim she couldn’t even do her most basic moves but, she had worked so hard, and for years, for these two minutes.” Reiner tried to reassure him. He frowned when he saw the raven-haired raise his own index to gnaw at the fingertip, when he had just scolded Annie for doing the same. 

Before he could think it through, Reiner reached for his hand and cradled it gently in his, before lowering it to his own lap. That earned him Bertholdt’s attention, whose features visibly softened. Reiner smiled when Bertholdt squeezed firmly his hand, not intending to pull away. 

“I really hope so.” Bertholdt sighed heavily, “she really needs this win, after all these years and her own accident. She could finally... jump when the mere thought had terrified her for so long.” Bertholdt’s voice almost cracked, as he kept staring fixedly at their hands. 

“And she _will_. I’ve got a good feeling about this.” Reiner squeezed Bertholdt’s hand again before the latter pulled away. Reiner instantly missed his warm touch against his colder one. 

The beginning rift of a song Reiner didn’t recognize started playing. He watched as Annie slowly arched her hands above her heard, indicating the start of her show. 

“Is this... Russian?” Reiner pondered out loud. 

“It's Maxim Kovtun.” Bertholdt explained absentmindedly “Yulia, her coach is Russian.” He added as if matter-of-factly when Reiner looked at him, confused. 

“Oh god, she’s starting...” Reiner tore his gaze away from his friend beside him to focus on the match. He allowed himself to look at her, properly, for the first time he had seen her that afternoon. She was clad in a short dress with two side cuts that went all the way to her waist. The fabric was of different shades of blue, varying from dark marine to sky blue, with small snowflakes embroidered around her V-neck cut. Annie was wearing her hair up –her usual hairstyle–but if Reiner’s memory served him right, she had some silver glitter on her pasty cheekbones, and atop her eyelids. 

Reiner realized for the first time how truly stunning Annie was. Her gracious moves only accentuated her beauty. The words ‘ _Ice Queen’_ floated to the front of his brain as he marveled at that high jump where she was practically flying by rotating with her whole-body mid-air, defying all physical laws of gravity, before she landed back on one leg on the ice. Her face broke into a childish grin as the crowd cheered for her. 

Reiner furtively glanced at Bertholdt to his right. He felt cold sweat ran down his back when he took in his twinkling eyes, and the way his mouth hung open in silent awe. 

He had often wondered what Bertholdt saw in Annie that he didn’t see in him but, slowly, Reiner was able to understand why his friend clung to her. They were a picture-book perfect couple. He had reached this conclusion after all the times he had spent in their company, whether be it in their own home or when they were out with friends. 

Bertholdt and Annie respected each other in a way he had never seen any other couples do. They deeply cared for each other, and were considerate of their respective needs and wishes. To him, their relationship didn’t look like one of those passionate love affairs. It was one that was steadily built on trust, and in believing in each other. Their bond was so strong, Reiner doubted anything could ever shake them. They’ve spent so many years together for their relationship to mature and be this exemplary. 

He and Annie were different in that aspect. Annie was much more composed and collected than he was. She was the perfect partner who’d be able to stand on equal ground with Bertholdt, and challenge him in a healthy, long-lasting relationship. 

Plus, she was far more beautiful. They could’ve put a crown on her head and no one would’ve argued against it. 

Reiner could finally understand what had drawn Bertholdt to her ever since that fateful day he saw her at the rink. He had spent eighteen years in denial of his friend’s undisputable feelings for her, when he had watched him fall hard for her throughout the years. 

And for as long as he did, Reiner still believed, despite the hard evidence against it, that _he_ still stood a chance to woo him. 

_Idiot_. 

But even an idiot will learn his lesson at some point. He wished that next time, it would take him way less than twenty years of his life to realize on which ground he stood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annie's (Reiner's) bracelet looks like [this](https://reclaimingzen.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/14_Green_and_Silver_-_Lucky_Knot_Bracelet.png).  
> Angst, angst, angst. Do you guys think things will get better for Reiner? and if so, how?  
> Let me know in the comments down below, I love hearing from you guys! xx


	20. Chapter 20

**Bertholdt**

Bertholdt was splayed on the couch of his living room, his broken leg propelled on top of three cushions. He had been in this position for the last... two hours and half this morning. He had woken up at eleven that day; a more frequent occurrence ever since his accident. He’s been struggling to fall asleep at night as his leg would feel heavier for unknown reasons or start itching. He had read online that it was part of the healing process but, he doesn’t exactly take what’s on Quora or Yahoo answers at face value. Annie had been gone, obviously, for quite some hours. She had made him coffee though, and fried up some eggs and bacon for him. Comfort food, since he had been in need of any form of it for the last month. He had tried to look at his 'temporary disability' as an opportunity to get him stuck at home and focus on writing, especially since he wasn’t going to get much done by the time that he would be engrossed with the wedding preparations. However, his plans soon went out of the window when he found out he could no longer muster the mental energy to sit in front of his laptop and fucking write. He was uninspired, stressed and utterly bored. Turns out that being stuck at home for forty days, and bedridden for almost seventy percent of his waking hours didn’t provide such scope for the imagination. 

His lackluster productivity made his mood sour. He has been crankier than usual, and snapped at the smallest of inconveniences. Worse than all of that? Annie being so understanding like the fucking perfect partner that she had always been. 

_“I’ve been through that, remember? When one of the blades of my skating boots sliced through my feet last year.”_ She had appeased him the first time he had snapped at her for not putting the lid back on the peanut butter jar. Bertholdt resented her so much for not fighting back or screaming at him for being such a lousy fiance, when she had done so much for him. She even sacrificed at least two hours each day to help him around. Valuable time during which she should’ve been on the rink instead, now that Nationals were looming closer. 

Alas, Annie never got mad. Never showed her frustration with him. Bertholdt could easily write a list of the things he could do to make it up to her once he healed properly, but Annie hated it when they kept score. 

He wished he could be with her now. In fact, he could do just that. He could hop in a cab to the ice-skating center, and entertain himself by watching her dance ever so graciously on the ice. It would certainly help ease up his nerves but, he knew how much Annie hated being watched. That was why she had banned him from ever coming to see her practice. She would lose her focus the moment she’d realize she’s being watched from afar by someone other than her coach. He was grateful she at least made an exception for official tournaments. 

So, that was no good plan either. He’ll be stuck at home then for the rest of his day, again. 

His days had become so repetitive that Bertholdt could no longer tell which day of the week it was. Thankfully, he could still make out the weekends from the rest of the week when Annie neither had to go to work nor to practice. Lately, those days had been sparse as she’d been spending more and more of her free time working on her program. She had made it to Nationals despite her expectations, ranking third in Regionals. Winning and placing among the top three again, thus qualifying for the Olympics was the logical next step for someone as ambitious as Annie.

 _"I’m_ _twenty-five, it’s now or never"_

Bertholdt wanted to support her. He had done so so far but, he also needed her, now more than ever. However, he couldn’t bring himself to admit to her this particular wish of his. He would never forgive himself if he held her back from making her dream come true. He couldn’t–wouldn’t–be that kind of partner, in the same way Annie had never hindered him throughout his career. 

And yet, he missed her terribly. He was also grouchy, and his feet was acting up again. He couldn’t rule out cabin fever either. 

It would’ve been way more tolerable, if Reiner was answering his phone. 

Up until two weeks ago, Bertholdt had firmly believed that he and Reiner were finally as close as they used to be back in high school. After almost ten years, the other had once again become his best friend in the world. The thought alone brought a content smile to Bertholdt's lips. He and Reiner had been almost inseparable for the last two months, even more since his accident. Or rather, as inseparable as two adults who lived in two different boroughs of New York, had their own jobs and own circle of friends, could be. If they weren’t out for coffee or a beer or just for simple stroll in Central Park or by the Hudson River, then they would be on the phone. They had both agreed that they despised phone calls but, texting was very much on the table. Annie–and Pieck as Reiner had once told him–picked up on their recent obsession with the smaller screens. _“Who’s been texting you at least sixteen times in the last fifteen minutes?_ ” Annie had arched an eyebrow skeptically at him. Somehow, Bertholdt was embarrassed to tell her it was Reiner sending him cursed reddit images so, he opted for _"Ymir”_ instead. If Annie had found that odd, she didn’t comment on it. 

Things between them improved even more since Reiner opened up to him about his struggle to be in a relationship. Bertholdt cherished the fact that Reiner allowed him in when he knew, first hand, how much his friend struggled to display vulnerability in front of others. It had once taken him years and one glass too many of his mother’s Pinot Noir in the balcony of his house, for Reiner to confess to him how much his father’s departure devastated him. _I don’t think I could ever heal from it_ , Reiner had slurred, eyes glazed with unshed tears. 

Bertholdt didn’t know how to console him then. He had never known the absence of a parent. His have always been caring, understanding, sometimes embarrassing, in the way every adult with teenagers was. Bertholdt knew it was self-centered and egotistical of him but, he couldn’t help feeling grateful that he had been born in such a loving family, exactly at the same moment Reiner was aching because of an absent, heartless bastard of a father and sometimes a neglecting, narcissistic mother. 

Reiner, however, had just been grateful that he had been by his side. That him being his best friend had _"saved_ _his life"_ in so many ways. He didn’t exactly tell him so but, he had texted him the same words once, when Bertholdt was out with his cousins at the arcade center in their hometown. He must have phased out while thinking of an appropriate answer to such an emotional, kind of out of the blue declaration. Because his companions were shouting at him for looking at his phone during a game that ended up with their loss against that team of men whom were too old to be playing in the first place. 

_I’ll never leave you_ , Bertholdt had replied then. His heart was racing when Reiner didn’t text him back, abruptly terrified that he might have weirded him out. 

Turned out he had been worrying over nothing in the end. Reiner still liked him, and invited him over to his place to hang out. He hadn’t brought up what transpired between them ever again. 

Reflecting back on it, Bertholdt felt his stomach churn as he remembered the vicious way he broke that promise. He had left him too, like his dad did. Without even saying goodbye. It was a wonder honestly Reiner had accepted him back in his life. Anyone else would’ve rightfully told him to fuck off. 

Although, Reiner might have realized his grave error, and had now decided to deliver the fair punishment Bertholdt much deserved for having been such a shitty friend. 

It might be the only valid explanation as to why Reiner hadn’t been returning his calls or only texting him back hours afterwards. His responses were curt and scarce, when Bertholdt had messaged him about sixty times in the course of three days. 

Reiner’s sudden absence from his life left a gaping hole in his heart. And it took Bertholdt completely off-guard. 

He should’ve frankly realized how much he enjoyed every minute that he spent in his company, every silly conversation they engaged in over a cup of coffee. 

As Bertholdt stared at the ceiling ahead, the sound of the clock ticking in the hallway deafening in the otherwise silent apartment, he realized how utterly lonesome he had been feeling the last two weeks he hadn’t been talking to Reiner. He missed him, that much he knew. He was afraid his feelings weren't mutual though. Otherwise, he probably would’ve called or visited him like he had done so many times since his accident. 

Perhaps, this time, it was really for the best. Maybe this was Reiner’s own way of asking that he should leave him alone. He wasn’t his babysitter and, least of all, his friend. A true friend wouldn’t have changed his number and cut off every tie he had to his best friend since pre-school. 

Those were the kinds of morbid thoughts that often circled in Bertholdt’s mind lately. They’d only get stronger and ludicrously irrational the longer he sat idle in his apartment, wallowing in self-pity for his desolation. 

No. No. 

He couldn’t think like that. 

He knew this peculiar, familiar pattern of thinking. He had felt this way when he had failed to pitch any draft to his publisher for two years. He had firmly believed then that he wasn’t worth anyone’s time, that he was a failure and a letdown. That he would be doing everyone a favor by pushing them away, and distancing himself from anyone who remotely gave a shit about him. 

He had treated Annie just so callously but, she was too clever to see through the cracks of his facade. Unravel the self-loathing and self-destructiveness meticulously concealed behind his venomous words. She had understood him and stayed with him despite his attempts to make her leave. Years later, he was eternally grateful to the universe that she hadn’t given up on him. So, he would do the same for Reiner. He won’t give up on him. He wouldn’t allow either of them to nip their blooming friendship in the bud. 

They have made it this far. So, he wouldn’t allow them to revert to square one. 

Bertholdt slowly sat upright and reached for his phone on the coffee table. It was almost three in the afternoon. It was also Thursday so Reiner only had classes in the morning. He should be home by now. Bertholdt checked his calendar events– his next Physiotherapy appointment wasn't until Friday so, he was free for the entirety of the afternoon. 

If he got ready now, he could make to it Manhattan in an hour and half. That'd leave him enough time to catch Reiner before the other decided to go out and hang out with his roommate at the bar nearby their apartment. 

Bertholdt reached for his crutches and eased himself into a standing position. He had gotten better with how much weight he could put on his injured ankle without it feeling too straining. He slowly made it toward his bedroom and threw on a cleaner T-shirt before he grabbed his wallet from his nightstand. He headed outside, overwhelmed by childish glee at the prospect of finally seeing his friend for the first time in two weeks. 

\--------------

Bertholdt’s hand froze midair when he attempted to knock at his friend’s door, as preposterous fear suddenly made his throat constrict. What if he had made a mistake by appearing unannounced at his friend’s doorstep? What if Reiner had plans? What if Reiner really didn’t want him now, or ever, and would kick him out? 

The sound of a dog barking behind him jostled Bertholdt from his galloping thoughts. Bertholdt cursed under his breath when his right leg’s crutch slid down his hip before cluttering to the floor. 

“Sorry about that.” Reiner’s elderly neighbor said sheepishly from behind him. Bertholdt shot his head around, and watched as the other man strode in his direction. He bent down and retrieved his crutch from the floor. “There you go.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Reiner is home by the way. I was just talking to him outside half an hour ago.” The older man supplied. Bertholdt was going to thank him again for his help before the man added: “unless... you came to see Pieck? She’s still not home from school.” Bertholdt almost rolled his eyes as he noticed the hint of a smirk tugging at the man’s lips. Bertholdt wasn’t going to humor him with the answer he sought. 

“I–I’m good. Thanks.” Bertholdt felt bad for Reiner and Pieck if they had to deal with such a nosy neighbor on a daily basis. 

The senior bid him goodbye before he tugged at his dog’s leash. Bertholdt breathed in relief as soon as the elderly disappeared from his field of vision. He raised his hand again to knock at the door, feeling even more skittish after the aggravating interaction. 

Bertholdt’s knuckles barely grazed the surface of the door before it was swung open, revealing Reiner. He was clad in a navy-blue hoodie that was perhaps too warm for a July weather, and black sweatpants. Bertholdt often wondered if the blond had a lower temperature than the average human to stand such stifling heat. 

“H–Hi.” Bertholdt stuttered. He wanted to hug him but something he couldn’t put his finger on held him back.

“Bertholdt?” Reiner frowned, evidently not having expected to see him today, or here, “what are you doing here?” He queried, looking genuinely puzzled. 

“I’m paying you a visit. Sorry for not calling ahead but, you, uh, y–you haven’t been returning my calls or texting me back in like, two weeks.” Reiner looked contrite at Bertholdt’s blatant honesty. 

“Come in.” Reiner stepped aside to let Bertholdt in. “Shit, Bertholdt! Why would you go out like this when you can barely stand on your feet? What if you fell on your way?” 

“Reiner. I’m not a baby. And I’ve got these bad boys to help me go anywhere I want.” Bertholdt cringed at his failed attempt for humor. Reiner wasn’t having it either as he shook his head disapprovingly. 

“Coffee? Beer?” Reiner led him towards the living room before he disappeared in the kitchen. 

“Coffee, please.” 

Bertholdt breathed in relief as soon as he was seated comfortably on the couch. Waiting for Reiner to make their drinks, Bertholdt allowed his gaze to wander around the place. He had been to his friend's place several times, whether be it to wait for Reiner before they went out or when they decided they'd rather stay home and order some takeaway and catch anything that was on TV. Yet, as always, he found himself entranced by its cozy vibe. Multiple tapestries embroidered with various geometrical forms, in red, orange and blue covered most of their wooden floor. They had couches and armchairs too many since they were only two people, yet their living room still looked spacious. Bertholdt loved the two brown and antique looking armchairs facing a small fireplace, and the plaid, turquoise and black blankets folded neatly atop each of the headrests. Their walls were painted a pasty white but the frames hung upon them made them look less plain. Bertholdt was intrigued by the one that displayed navy ships designs throughout history. The upside-down clock was definitely Pieck’s idea, that was for certain. Same for the collection of hats stacked upon each other in one corner of the living room. Reiner was too practical of a person to waste space on an antique looking clock that didn’t even serve its basic purpose to accurately display the time. But Bertholdt recognized that red Denver guitar as his. A melancholic smile quirked the corners of his mouth as he reminisced on distant days from their youth, where they’d sometimes skip school, and drive until they’re high up a ridge, right where it drops thousands of miles into the deepest part of the earth. They’d be sprawled on the hood of Bertholdt’s car, passing around a looted bottle of wine while Reiner would strum tunes for them. 

As he marveled at the enormous bookshelf that accommodated diverse genres of books– Pieck was an avid reader, like he was, and the Sci-Fi books were evidently Reiner’s– Bertholdt reflected on the fact that Reiner, on the other hand, had been to his place countless times, especially since his accident. Sometimes, Annie would feel paranoid to leave him on his own, so she would text Reiner to come over, when she needed to head out for her training. Or so it had been at first. Before long, Bertholdt started begging him to come over and keep him company because he was too fucking bored. Reiner had never refused his offers, not even once, until he did for the first time, two weeks ago. 

Bertholdt frowned when he realized that things started changing between them ever since they went to see Annie’s match by the end of June. 

Well, his impending confrontation with his friend would hopefully provide him with the answers he desperately sought. 

Reiner reemerged ten minutes later, carrying a tray with two mugs on it and what looked like a plate of... toast? 

"I made some Banana bread earlier. Don’t worry, it has no nuts in it.” Reiner reassured him as he deposited the plate on the coffee table. Bertholdt reached for his own mug of coffee and closed his eyes as he inhaled the heavenly aroma. He took a tentative sip and almost moaned in delight–Perfectly sweetened, and with exactly the right amount of frothy milk. Just how he loved it. 

A bite from the Banana bread filled him with a rush of nostalgia. "Your mom’s recipe.” Bertholdt murmured after swallowing his first bite, “you **perfected** it– Karina never put chocolate chips in it.” 

“She’d be mad I did but, she’s not here to complain about it.” Reiner retorted before bringing his own mug to his lips. God, did he miss him, and did he miss talking to him. 

“True. And if she did, I’ll tell her that it’s actually a brilliant innovation on an otherwise perfect dish.” Bertholdt added before he wolfed down the remaining of his slice. 

Reiner chuckled softly, bemused, “there’s more, if you want.”

“Thanks, but this is enough sugar for me.” 

A comfortable silence settled between them and Bertholdt wondered why they had even drifted apart these last two weeks. Reiner didn’t seem like he didn’t want him here. He was smiling and joking like he always did. It made Bertholdt even more confused as to what might have prompted him to give him the cold shoulder. Bertholdt didn’t remember doing or saying anything that might’ve upset him. 

No. Something _must_ have happened. Bertholdt shouldn’t be tricked with how casual Reiner is acting. He knew him long enough to know how good he is at placating others. 

“Reiner.” Bertholdt began, unsure, and Reiner turned to look at him. The flash of panic that crossed his eyes only confirmed his suspicions; this gaiety was nothing but a rehearsed act. 

“Hm?” Reiner smiled, although, it didn’t reach his eyes. He was just as nervous as Bertholdt was because he knew what direction this conversation was heading into. 

“Are you mad at me?” Bertholdt asked, testing the waters. Reiner furrowed his brows, confused. 

“What? Why?” 

“Well, you haven’t been answering your phone or my texts so, I, um, I–I thought, maybe I did or said something that upset you. If I did, I’m sorry. Sometimes I can be really dense and piss off people without knowing it.” Bertholdt wrung his hands in his lap, tense. 

“No. _No._ You did nothing wrong.” Reiner averted his gaze to the TV in front of them “I was just, uh, busy.” 

“Busy?” 

“Uh, with exams and teaching.” Reiner was still refusing to look him in the eyes. He was lying. 

“Reiner, please. Be honest with me.” Bertholdt reached for his hand and felt stung when the other flinched under his touch, “what’s going on, really?” 

“Nothing.” Reiner pulled his hand away, “Bertholdt, you shouldn’t have come all this way just to ask me this. You’re just putting unnecessary strain on your feet, and wasting time you could use for writing.” 

“I haven’t written a word in two weeks.” 

“Well that’s bad. You should head home and work on your book instead. Please, you’re worrying over nothing.” 

“I missed you.” Bertholdt blurted before he could think better. Although, the moment the words left his mouth, he wondered why he even hesitated to state the obvious. 

“Bertholdt.” Reiner sighed. 

“I mean it. You’re not– _we're_ not the same. And I don’t even know why. It was like... you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I thought, I don’t know... I thought we were doing OK. I thought we were friends.” Bertholdt explained, growing even more perplexed by the second. Did he misread everything so far? 

“It’s not that. I was just... doing my own thing.” Reiner protested weakly. 

“I don’t believe it. It had happened overnight, ever since we went to see Annie’s show.” Bertholdt argued, not intending to let it go. His hunch that something went wrong since that day only got stronger, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. 

Reiner didn’t say anything. He stood up abruptly instead and stalked toward his bedroom. Did Reiner forget he was on crutches and struggled to be on his feet? 

Bertholdt resigned himself to his fate and followed his friend on his heels. 

He found Reiner draped across his bed, shielding his eyes from the warm light of the afternoon filtering through the blinders with his arm. Bertholdt stood awkwardly by the doorframe, uncertain as to how to approach him. 

“Reiner, talk to me.” He pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. 

“About what?” He hated when Reiner played dumb in hopes that he gives up and drops the matter altogether. Well, tough luck–Bertholdt didn’t come all this way and endure the throbbing of his own feet to be sent back with nothing. If asking him gently didn’t work and made him shut off, then he just needed to make it safer for him to open up. 

Bertholdt retreated back to the living room to where he had first perceived the queer items. And there it was, resting atop the dining table. He snatched the two leathered pieces before he walked back to his friend’s bedroom, wincing as the ache in his feet grew stronger. 

“Here.” He threw one in Reiner’s direction and watched as it landed on his stomach. 

“What’s this?” He wanted to know. At least, it got him his attention. 

“I’m assuming it’s a Dominatrix masquerade mask, which I hope is faux-leather." Bertholdt replied in earnest before he put on his own. “Are these yours?” 

“No, they’re most likely Pieck’s.” Reiner sat upright, then proceeded to examine the mask as it slid down his lap. He looked intrigued by it and... fascinated? 

“Is she...?” 

“No idea.” Reiner sighed, discarding the mask on the bed, suddenly disinterested. “Bertholdt, what are we doing this for?” 

“For protection.” Bertholdt answered in a measured tone. He walked toward Reiner’s bed and sat down carefully, sighing in relief as soon as he was no longer on his feet, the pain dulling to a faint itch almost instantly. He laid down on the mattress, absentmindedly taking in the smell of detergent and the hint of Lavender clinging to his friend’s sheets. 

“From what?” Reiner asked tentatively. 

“Put on yours.” Bertholdt instructed and didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes in glaring exasperation. He still did as he was told before he plopped down back on the mattress, the bed creaking under his weight. 

“Now, we can talk, freely.” 

“This is stupid.” 

“You’re wearing a mask.” Bertholdt turned to look at him, slightly hurt when Reiner refused to meet his gaze, staring stubbornly at the ceiling, “it’s like I don’t know who you are.” 

There was a pregnant pause, during which Bertholdt watched attentively the way his friend’s breathing grew labored. Bertholdt braced himself for whatever was about to come. 

“When we graduated from high school, we went our separate ways. We both went to different colleges. And I moved to another state while you stayed in Idaho.” Reiner said after a while. Bertholdt felt his heart sink. Why was Reiner talking about this now? He thought they put this behind them. 

Bertholdt suddenly felt that he could no longer look at him. He tore his gaze away and stared at the ceiling fan whirring above them. Something– a paper?– was stuck on one of the blades. 

“We promised to keep in touch but, you rarely called or texted me back.” Reiner let out a ragged breath. “It hurt my feelings.” 

“I was doing my own thing.” Bertholdt mirrored Reiner’s earlier answer, at loss for anything else to say. Until this day, he couldn’t explain why he did what he did. He had been briefly reassured when Reiner had told him he didn’t hold it against him all those months ago. 

Alas, Reiner apparently never meant it. He hadn’t really forgotten all about it. 

A suffocating silence fell between them, and the sound of the ceiling fan was fraying Bertholdt’s nerves. Suddenly, Bertholdt wished he hadn’t demanded from Reiner to be forthright. Inevitably, they were prone to broach subjects Bertholdt wasn’t ready to tackle. 

He abruptly had an inkling that he wasn’t going to like the direction their conversation might take. Especially with the way Reiner went silent again, as if pondering whether or not he should say whatever was egging him. 

When Reiner turned his face away to the opposite side of the room Bertholdt just _knew_ what he was going to ask. Honestly, it was a wonder he never did. 

“That night... Graduation night, why did you sleep with me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (not really) sorry about that cliffhanger :>


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here it is folks– bonus chapter. Enjoy xx

**Bertholdt**

_“That night... Graduation night, why did you sleep with me?”_

When those particular words left Reiner’s lips, Bertholdt felt as if the air was sucked from the room. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, and his body went completely slack. Every sound in the apartment rung his eardrums; every tick of a clock, the scratching of the paper stuck between the ceiling fan’s blades, and the faint sound of a light flickering in the bathroom. Reiner and Pieck once squabbled over who should change the lightbulb. That argument led nowhere as Bertholdt had then witnessed. 

He was startled when he heard the bed springs creak the moment Reiner shifted. Bertholdt was reminded then that he wasn’t alone, even though he felt like he was engulfed in darkness. Despite his apprehension, he couldn’t help but chance a furtive glance to his right. His friend was still stubbornly facing the wall, as if the thought of looking at Bertholdt scared him. Or repulsed him. Bertholdt had every reason to believe the latter, because he felt the same about himself. 

He also remembered his friend was still waiting for an answer to his question. 

“Reiner...” Bertholdt sighed, stalling. He frankly had no idea how to proceed. Bertholdt never readied himself for this conversation, as he had once firmly believed he’d never see the other again. And even if he did, it would’ve been the kind of unspoken things that happens once in a lifetime. The kind of secret both of them would carry to the grave. 

Bertholdt almost recoiled when Reiner finally turned to look at him, gaze steely, boring daggers into his soul, even though he was still wearing that ridiculous mask. Bertholdt swallowed through the rock in his throat as he took in his hard expression. Reiner looked determined to get an answer out of him. 

For a moment, Bertholdt wondered if he was angry. He usually could read Reiner like an open book. But there were times, scarier, harrowing times that’d make his blood run cold in his veins, where he just couldn’t fathom what was going through his best friend’s head. 

And this was one of those moments– Reiner was unreadable to him. Almost like a stranger. 

Seized by a primitive fear, Bertholdt felt almost cornered to be able to give him any answer. It would’ve been slightly easier if he wasn’t feeling like his brain has gone completely blank. 

“I don’t know.” He breathed finally, genuinely clueless. He knew how it sounded but, he was feeling on edge. Suddenly, he could no longer hold Reiner’s gaze. This whole situation made him want to flee when moments ago this was the only place he wished to be. 

However, Reiner didn’t say anything. Didn’t react, not even with a twitch of a muscle. If he hadn’t been staring fixedly at him, Bertholdt would’ve assumed he had fallen asleep. 

But no, he didn’t. He was just waiting for him to elaborate because he wouldn’t take such a half-assed excuse. Bertholdt had to do better than this. 

“I–I mean, um,” he cleared his throat as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I, uh, I guess I was feeling... overwhelmed.” He exhaled softly, absentmindedly toying with a stray thread on the blanket underneath him “I haven’t seen you in a while, and we–we were high because of the Molly we took.” 

“So, you’re saying you'd be tongue down anyone's throat, just because you were stoned?” Reiner retorted, sarcastically. Bertholdt felt like he was being mocked. Reiner never talked to him like this. Never this cold, never this detached. 

“No, _no!”_ Bertholdt’s voice rose an octave higher in alarm, “I don’t! I never do this. I–” He instinctively scrambled into a sitting position, no longer bearing to lay down next to his friend. 

“Yet, you did. Without a second thought, why?” Reiner insisted in that same, monotonous voice. Why was he doing this now? Why can’t he just let it go, put it to the account of momentary madness and forget about it? 

Bertholdt ran his hand across his face, grimacing at the sweat beading on his foreheadand making his bangs stick uncomfortably to his skin. 

“I don’t do this, not just with anyone. I–” The words died on his throat when Reiner sat up as well, an unreadable expression etched on his face. He didn’t say a word, he just kept staring at him oddly. Bertholdt frowned when for the first time since Reiner dropped that bomb, he noticed that the other was unmistakably nervous. 

He took a deep breath, trying to be careful about his next words. “I guess, it wasn’t just the pills. It was y–you.” 

“What do you mean it was ‘me'?” Reiner whispered. His change of demeanor took Bertholdt completely off-guard. In mere seconds, the guy who had been so level-headed, standing his ground and demanding answers he was adamant to get looked brusquely uncertain. Even though Bertholdt couldn’t figure out what prompted this unexplained shift in the atmosphere between them, he still felt relieved. He felt they were equal in their uneasiness. 

“Yeah... I–I haven’t seen you in almost a year then, and I **know** – I know that it’s my fault we drifted apart. I know I should’ve called, but right then, I–you... You were so happy, maybe because you graduated. Maybe, fuck, I don’t know, y–you had something good going on in your life that you didn’t tell me about...” Bertholdt went silent again. He wished that Reiner would say something, anything, because Bertholdt wasn’t good with words. Not when it came to expressing himself. He wrote for a living yet, his own fluency with the English language failed him. 

“You were happy to see me?” Reiner asked tentatively. 

“Of course, Reiner. You’re my friend. My best friend, and I missed you so much.” Bertholdt explained. It took him herculean efforts not to reach for his hand and squeeze it reassuringly in his own. Why does Reiner circle back to doubting how much he cared for him, over and over again? 

“Yet, you disappeared the next morning. Bolted right through the door without even saying goodbye. And I knew your flight wasn’t until the next day.” Reiner’s voice was devoid of emotion, “I texted you twenty times, and I called you ten more– you didn’t pick up.” He reminded him carefully, and Bertholdt felt his heart clench in shame. He knew what he did and he wasn’t proud of it. 

“A month later, I could no longer reach you because you changed your phone number. And that was it. Not a word since then, for three years.” Reiner stated plainly, and Bertholdt felt his insides twist painfully when he heard the way his voice cracked at the end. He hated that he’s been the source of his chagrin for so many years, and probably for years to come. Perhaps this was never something Bertholdt could fix. He's just been foolish enough to believe in a crafted illusion that they could be OK.

Still, Bertholdt couldn’t imagine a way he would’ve done it any differently. He couldn’t picture a scenario he didn’t leave. 

“So, how’s that you being glad you saw me then? Cause this shit doesn’t add up.” 

“Reiner, don’t make me say it.” Bertholdt pleaded, because he had his answer. He just didn’t want to think about it. He spent years trying to suppress those memories of his transgression. And those haunting thoughts of self-loath were bubbling to the surface. 

“If you never ran into Pieck and Porco in Manhattan, were you ever intending to talk to me again?” Reiner wanted to know. 

“Please–” 

“The **truth**.” Reiner’s firm tone heralded that this wasn’t up for negotiation. 

“I don’t know.” Bertholdt swallowed thickly. He wished he had a better answer but, he didn’t. It was the harsh reality he had tiptoed around for months, and now he had to face the consequences of his selfish actions. 

“Fine.” Reiner was having none of it though. His lips set into a hard line. He jerked his hand to his face before he took off his mask and threw it on the mattress. Now that Bertholdt took a good look at Reiner’s face, he felt his heart sink when he noticed his red rimmed eyes. 

“I’ll do the talking for you.” Reiner shrugged in faux-nonchalance. Bertholdt would’ve bought his bored teenage girl act if he didn’t see him swipe angrily at invisible tears. “It was Annie. You felt guilty because you cheated on her.” 

“Isn’t it kind of obvious?” Bertholdt countered, voice coming out harsher than he intended. Reiner was nonplussed, though. 

“You value your relationship with her more than you did our friendship. And it’s always been that way, ever since you got together ten years ago.” 

“She was my girlfriend then! And I’m marrying her in six months! I couldn’t risk losing her over some instant gratification I barely remembered!” Bertholdt flailed his hands in exasperation. He thought this went without saying. 

“But you were fine losing me.” Reiner shrugged, “because apparently I didn’t matter that much to you. Maybe I never did if you were that alright tossing your own ‘best friend’ like a toy you’d grown bored with.” 

“Reiner, that’s not fair and you know it.” 

“It’s not fair to _me,_ but you want me to be OK with it. I’m only second best. We’re ' **just** ' friends you know, and she’s the love of your life. You would prioritize her at any opportunity, and you did, without a second thought, even at my expense. Because, silly me, romantic love is the _ultimate_ form of love.” 

“Isn’t that the case with every couple?” Bertholdt spat bitterly, his anger flaring. Not at Reiner, but at himself, because he knew what Reiner was getting at and, it only made him hate his own guts. 

“No.” Reiner said, and Bertholdt flinched at his harsh tone, “unless they’re being the assholes in the relationship, which you are by the way. You’ve always been like that. You’ve prioritized one over the other and reasoned it as rational. It’s not.” 

“I’m an asshole because I didn’t want my girlfriend, whom has never been anything but faithful to me, to find out I fucking cheated on her?” 

“Why the fuck would she find out? Did you think I’d go blabber to her about it? Is that why you changed your number? Just who the fuck do you think I am?” Reiner was frantically shouting now “I care about you guys’ relationship more than you fucking give me credit for. Because you’re my fucking best friend.” Bertholdt watched with dread the way Reiner was shaking. However, he didn’t seem like he was going to relent anytime soon. 

“No. _No_. Reiner, I–I was just paranoid she’d find out, if she ever saw together, she'd just piece it together."

"What? Like fucking smell us on each other?"

"I was feeling guilty because I shouldn’t have done it and it kills me that I did!” 

“Oh, get your head out of your ass.” Reiner rose swiftly from the bed, “this isn’t the fucking Dark Ages. People, even in committed, long term relationships sleep with other people whether or not their significant other knew. Annie doesn’t, and will never, know, because nothing will ever shake you both. Nothing will ever tear you apart and I’ve seen it.” 

“It doesn’t make me feel any good about myself.” 

“Oh, I’m not trying to. Because you wronged Annie, but you also wronged _me_.” Reiner pointed to himself then and Bertholdt felt his face flush in shame. 

“Oh... I–I'm so sorry. I–I know I shouldn’t have slept with you when you weren’t even–” 

“For fuck’s sake, Bertholdt! I’m not hung up on some sex I consented to!” Reiner pressed his fingers to his temple. “I’ve fucked people before I grabbed my phone and slid out of the door. But I’ve also made mistakes. I’ve slept with people I never should’ve, and it almost cost me everything I valued." Reiner's adam apple bobbed, "my... impulsiveness hurt people I cared so much about.” Bertholdt’s brain latched on that piece of information and he couldn’t help but wonder who Reiner was referring to. If it was someone Bertholdt knew. But he couldn’t ask about it as it wasn’t the appropriate time for that kind of discussion. “But guess what? I didn’t just cut them off. I stuck with them until we fixed things. Until everything was OK again. Yes, it was awkward. Yes, I hurt everyone because of it but it worked out in the end. It took time and patience and so many fucking tears, but it did turn out well in the end. Because I didn’t give up. Because those people mattered to me.” Reiner’s shoulders slumped before his expression softened, “Even If I would've been dating someone, I would’ve never chosen them over the people I cared about. I wouldn’t have given up on either of them. Because I don’t prioritize someone over the other.” Reiner closed his eyes before letting out a ragged breath, “if our positions were reversed, I wouldn’t have given up on you. That’s why it hurt to know how effortlessly you could do it.” 

“OK!” Bertholdt exclaimed, “I get it! I’m an asshole. I’ve hurt you and I’ve kept doing it over and over again. I know I fucked-up.” It was taking him enormous efforts to not just burst into ugly sobs. “But I care about you. I’m not lying– I fucking do. I know I’ve been a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have changed my number. I should’ve called. I should’ve made this OK.” His attempts to hold back his tears went out the window as he felt moisture stream stubbornly down his cheeks. Reiner was still standing up, as if he was grounded to the floor. A selfish part of Bertholdt wished the other would cross the distance between them and embrace him. Reassure him that they were OK. That they could move past this. That he would forgive him– 

“I’m sorry.” Bertholdt choked on a sob, “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I majorly fucked up. You deserved, **deserve** , so much better because you’re the best friend– the best man– I’ve ever known in my life. But I still don’t want to lose you.” He searched Reiner’s eyes for any hint of compassion, any remaining love the other might have had for him. 

It broke his heart when Reiner didn’t move from his spot. His face was impassive, as if his features were sculpted from stone. Perhaps it was too late– he had ruined what was otherwise a solid friendship, and he only had himself to blame for this. 

If only he could go back in time and undo his grave error. If only he convinced Reiner they shouldn’t take the drugs. Then, everything would be alright again. He wouldn’t have felt sick to his stomach whenever he looked Annie in the eye ever since his infidelity. And he would’ve had three more years with his best friend. They would’ve still been on the opposite sides of the country but, they could’ve made it work. Just like it did with Annie. 

Bertholdt watched warily, heart thundering in his chest, as Reiner walked toward him. The other was avoiding his gaze when he sat back carefully on the mattress. He lowered his face into his palms and for a minute, he was silent. Bertholdt was squirming in his seat beside him. They were mere inches apart but, he felt as if thousands of miles separated them. 

“OK.” Reiner finally said. He sighed heavily before he raised his face, staring at the wall in front of him. 

This wasn’t the response Bertholdt had expected. It left him empty, deeply unsatisfied. They weren’t OK. They could never be on good terms. Not like this. And the responsibility to make sure it doesn’t happen fell entirely on his shoulders. 

“Reiner, you asked me if I would’ve ever contacted you, have I never run into Pieck that day. And the answer is; no.” Reiner visibly tensed but he didn't comment on his confession.

He knew Bertholdt’s answer from the beginning. He felt his heart shatter when that realization struck him. “I know that because I was ignorant and a fool. I sabotaged a friendship I knew in my heart I valued the most in my life.” Bertholdt reached with his hand toward him before he froze midair. Something told him Reiner would’ve pushed him away. 

“But I’m glad I did.” Bertholdt whispered in earnest, “I’m glad I met you again, after all those years. I know there’s no way for me to properly make it up to you but, please. I don’t want to lose you. I had before, willingly and I don’t want it to happen again.” Bertholdt pleaded desperately with him, wishing he could look at Reiner’s face, or touch him, or hug him. “Please, Reiner. I’m sorry but, please don’t let go of me.” 

Reiner still said nothing in response. 

Bertholdt properly looked at him then– he looked smaller with his shoulders hunched forward. Looking at his back that was covered in a thin shirt, he was reminded again how much weight his friend had lost. 

Bertholdt felt an irrational urge to hold him in his arms. 

No, he couldn’t. He _shouldn't_. He had already fucked up enough for a lifetime so, he mercifully resisted the ludicrous urge to. 

“Reiner...” Bertholdt said instead. "Please, don’t give up on me. Please don’t leave me.” 

His friend took a shaky breath again. The sun had long since set outside so the room had been dimmer for a while but, those were definitely tears streaming down his pasty cheeks. 

“Took you long enough to apologize.” Reiner uttered, voice husky, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear you say for the last five months.” Reiner admitted before turning to look at him for the first time. Bertholdt felt his own lip tremble as he thought about how much pain and misery he had put his friend through. How long he had been so oblivious to it. 

“Will you forgive me?” Bertholdt practically implored him. If humiliation was the price it took to have his friend back then he didn’t care. 

“Yes.” Reiner breathed genuinely, and Bertholdt’s breath hitched in his throat. “You know I could never stay mad at you for long.” Reiner chuckled lightly. Bertholdt’s heart skipped a beat at the delightful sound. 

It was Bertholdt’s turn now to face away from his friend, lest he saw the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your responses on the last chapter xx Here's the promised Sunday update! Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

Reiner wished for the second time that evening that Pieck wasn’t out on her date with... whoever she said she was meeting for dinner. 

He was curled on the couch of their living room, a thick blanket draped across his frame due to his limbs feeling cold out of the blue, despite the stifling heat of July. He was staring at the TV in front of him and found himself zoning out almost every five minutes. Before long, he stopped paying attention to the movie giving up all hope to understand its plot. He was momentarily tempted to switch the screen off, as it was a waste of both his energy and the power, then decided against it. Somehow, the eerie silence that would otherwise engulf the hollow apartment unsettled him. Not because he couldn’t handle being on his own in the dark, quite the contrary. He just dreaded to be alone with his thoughts. His galloping, raging thoughts that he’s been trying to shut down for the past three hours. Ruminations that revolved around a certain tall, raven-haired man he had a spat with a day prior. 

He had briefly pondered if he should text Porco and ask him to come over. Hang out with him in one of their guys’ nights. Perhaps then the red-head would distract him from replaying the previous afternoon’s events on infinite loop until he was clutching at his temples in despair. 

He brushed off the thought as soon as he realized what hanging out with Porco would ensue, when Pieck was out on a date. He’d be grumpy, twitchy, pacing the living room back and forth– if he wasn’t already doing that at his own place– as jealousy gnawed at him. Usually Reiner would know how to placate him, tactfully, without divulging much about Pieck’s own feelings toward their Irish friend. He would even take him out for a drink or play his wingman to pick up a (skanky, as Pieck would’ve put it) chick. This time, however, Reiner couldn’t bring himself to care about his best friend’s problem. One he and Pieck wouldn’t have in the first place had they stopped tiptoeing around their mutual feelings for each other. Reiner was in no mindset to comfort anyone. He was the one who needed a shoulder to cry on. 

If Pieck and Porco’s issue was their obliviousness about their very real, reciprocated feelings, then they were lucky. At least, luckier than he was. Neither of them had been given the harsh evidence that their love had always been, and will always be unrequited. That it didn’t matter how much he tried to impress the man he’s loved for as long as he could remember, he would never look at him the way Reiner dreamed he would. For he was dazzled by someone else, having fallen deliriously in love with them. Someone Reiner had never been, and will never be able to compare to. He’d known it for years yet, a desperate, hopeful part of him clung to the slimmest of hopes that Bertholdt would one day wake up, and realize he loved Reiner differently from what he had firmly believed for years. 

He's always known Bertholdt was into women. He’s known him all his life after all. In all those years, they’ve never hidden anything from each other. Not his own sexuality or his questionable ways of exploring it. Not Bertholdt’s childhood crush that blossomed into full-blown adoration for Annie. 

Nothing that wasn’t Reiner’s own mental illness anyway. Or his mother’s. Or the things that’d course through his own head whilst he tries to force his most genuine smile upon on his face. 

Bertholdt told him once that he and Annie don’t sweep things under the rug. At least not when it came to his one-time infidelity. Although, Reiner struggled to believe that couples, even the quintessential ones like Bertholdt and Annie were, never lie to each other. But in the unlikely possibility that they didn’t, he saw why he and Bertholdt could never work out. He knew it, deep in his heart, and had been told that vile, harsh truth by Pieck before. And anyone he’d blabbered about it when he was drunk and alone at a bar. 

It shouldn’t have taken him until Bertholdt spelled it out for him to understand that they were never meant to be together. Not that the other said those exact same words per se, as he was such a thick-head despite being a prodigy, thus unable to see past Reiner’s longing gaze. But his breakdown over the hypothetical consequences of his transgression that still remain undivulged to his fiance, his ruthless abandon of him when realizing his grave error that might’ve cost him an otherwise ideal, healthy relationship, were all the proof Reiner needed to realize that he had to let go. He was only making himself miserable chasing after a man he’d never consider him anything more than his pal. His best, guy friend. 

He told Bertholdt that he found the belief that romantic love was above friendship preposterous. And he meant it _,_ despite his cunning steering of the conversation away from his original intent with his question. If he had never been in love with Bertholdt, he still would’ve been heartbroken that his best friend cut him off. His bond with Bertholdt meant everything to him, regardless of his own romantic feelings. He’s the only person who really understood him. Pieck and Porco were a close second. They tried so hard to understand him, be there for him, whether he asked for their help or refrained from doing so. 

And they did. They stuck with him through thick and thin, even though things haven’t always been great. Sometimes, not even remotely good to say the least. Reiner knew he’d never be able to repay them for their loyalty and kindness. 

But they also struggled to listen when he just wanted to be heard, and jumped to their own hasty conclusions. With them, he constantly felt watched, probed and prodded at under a microscope, as they noted every movement and words of his. On guard, always, without failing–he'd wonder, sometimes when he’s fed up with them, if they even took turns–to detect the slightest shift in his moods, so they could brace themselves for the worst. He knew they only had his best interest in their minds but, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. So much, he sometimes considered leaving for good, disappearing without a trace. 

That’s why he needed _him_ in his life. He’s never met anyone like Bertholdt in his life. He just, _gets_ him, when almost nobody else does. Granted, he's not perfect, and had his own flaws. Reiner had made sure to hammer that point home the previous day. He doubted Bertholdt was that deluded about his lack of imperfections to begin with– he’s known the guy almost all his life, and knew all about his insecurities. 

But who could call themselves impeccable anyway? 

It wasn’t like Reiner thought he was, far from it. He was fully aware of his own anger management issues, and his tendencies to bottle up every emotion inside him until he could hardly stand to breathe. And those were the two things that first came to his mind upon reflection–not many, considering he wasn’t going through a depressive episode, or the list would’ve been endless. 

Not that he was planning on changing anytime soon, as he never knew any other way to cope. 

Still, he knew it didn’t look great on him. 

And yet, despite both of their own faults, the bond he and Bertholdt had formed over the years had been enough for Reiner, despite his silent plea to have more of him. 

That's one of the reasons why it hurt so much that Bertholdt could discard him so heedlessly. Turn his back on him with the unyielding conviction that he’d never need him to be part of his life again, when he fucking swore to him, ten years ago, that he would never do that. 

Reiner realized how subconsciously enraged he had been feeling during all these months. That was why he had been adamant to get that apology out of him. And hearing it finally for the first time ever since they reconnected, brought him a sense of peace. So, he cried, tears of joy, before he recognized they were also ones of sorrow, and grief. He never conceptually grasped what it meant to feel utterly joyous and devastated at the same time until he did yesterday. Those two ambivalent emotions mingling in his heart puzzled him and made his head spin. However, to spare himself the embarrassment of an unwarranted confession of love that’d only drive the other away, after he just begged him to take him back, he chose to look happy. It was the indisputable half of the truth after all. He didn’t have a shred of doubt that Bertholdt cared for him deeply, as the other fell apart in front of him for the first time in years, when realizing the damage which he unintentionally inflicted on him, before he vowed to him that he cared about him, more than Reiner acknowledged. Bertholdt probably thought that was what Reiner needed from him. A reassurance that he came first just as Annie did, or a promise to make sure he did, from now onwards. So, Reiner willingly let him believe he did well. That he deserved to be forgiven. And it wasn’t even far from being the truth. Surely, the sting of his ruthless betrayal and callous actions could never be forgotten–Reiner having the exceptional brain to make sure it didn’t happen–but he genuinely found it in his heart to forgive his mistake, and move past it. Because Reiner still needed him in his life. He couldn’t picture a life without Bertholdt, not anymore, not since they had reunited again. It wounded him to hear that his childhood friend would’ve been fine with them being apart for the rest of their lives, but it is what it is. And it was in the past. Bertholdt had been honest, blunt even, at Reiner’s own request. But it wrecked him, and made his breath stuck in his throat when he perceived how genuine Bertholdt was in his confession. Reiner had known what his answer would be to his hypothetical question. Although, his straightforwardness took him off-guard, briefly wondering what had become of that reticent, shy boy he’d known before. 

That candid attitude of his didn’t help in softening the blow of what Bertholdt’s words eventually meant. _I care about you, there’s no doubt to that, but I love her, the way you wish I loved you but I never could._ In Reiner’s mind that’s what his dearest friend’s constant reminder of how much he felt guilty for what he did sounded like. And had Bertholdt been a little less dense, he would’ve long since pieced the puzzle together, perhaps say those exact same words as gently as Reiner was certain he would attempt to. 

So, Reiner smiled and laughed even when his heart had shattered to pieces, but instinctively recoiled when Bertholdt reached for a hug. Reiner swallowed through the lump in his throat when he took in his crestfallen expression. He squeezed his shoulders placatingly before helping him on his feet and driving him back to his apartment. 

The drive had been awkward and tense. Reiner could see from his peripheral view how Bertholdt kept glancing his way every now and then, and how he’s been gnawing at his cuticles in that nervous gesture he’s long since associated it with the brunet. 

_“We’re OK.”_ Reiner said finally when he had killed the engine, _"I_ _just need some time, to process.”_ Bertholdt swallowed audibly before he nodded, a stray tear sliding down his cheek. Reiner should’ve thought better before he reached forward and thumbed it away. His friend _,_ having been so emotional _,_ leant into the brief touch. 

_“I’m really not mad, not anymore_ , _”_ were his words to the man on his right, and Reiner genuinely meant it. He was no longer seething. He was just mournful. 

After he was back to the safe haven of his bedroom, his face crumbled. He wept in anguish; in the way his father would’ve probably peered at him in unadulterated disdain. The fleeting thought only made him wail louder, uglier, unhindered by the absence of his roommate then, despite faintly wishing she was there to console him. 

He cried, grieving a life he could never have. And for once in his life, he didn’t actually blame himself. He wasn’t the reason Bertholdt fell in love with her first. It was just his bad luck. Like it had been with him being born in a dysfunctional family, and having a detached father whom barely stood his own son’s existence before he vanished without a word, or his own distant mother, who ended up giving him her own disorder. 

Bertholdt _,_ mercifully _,_ hadn’t tried to call him that evening. If his friend went against his request for some space _,_ any resolve Reiner might have mustered earlier in his presence to keep it together would’ve disintegrated. He would’ve blurted things he would’ve regretted for certain _,_ and alienated all of his friends in the process. Bertholdt would’ve been at the top of that list. It wasn’t that ludicrous of a probability that Pieck and Porco would despise him for it too. 

Reiner didn’t leave his room until later that evening. On his way toward the kitchen _,_ he had muttered a weak _'hey’_ to Pieck _,_ whom was hunched over her own stack of papers to grade in the living room _,_ an episode _of My feet Are Killing Me_ playing on the background. She had greeted him back, without sparing him a glance, determined as she had been to be done with her markings. Reiner was thankful for it– he couldn’t handle being at the receiving end of her relentless interrogations _,_ lest he caves and confesses about deeds he was naturally sworn to carry with him to the grave. 

He snatched a bottle of Lagavulin scotch from their cupboard– a gift from Bertholdt for getting his teaching job back then– before retreating back to his bedroom. He took a few swigs from the bottle _,_ the burn on his throat a welcome sensation _,_ numbing a smidge of his pain. 

Lying on the couch tonight _,_ absentmindedly staring as the movie’s credits rolled _,_ Reiner had been tempted to leave his cocoon of blankets and retrieve the bottle concealed underneath his bed. It had helped yesterday, as he soon found himself drifting into dreamless slumber. He resisted the urge though despite it being Friday, not only because he didn’t feel like making it a recurring habit to resort to alcohol to cope, adding more to his varied list of unhealthy, hazardous coping mechanisms, but also because he was feeling both mentally and physically drained. So much, that his eyes started drooping, even though it was barely half past nine. He lowered the volume of the TV _,_ omitting turning it off in favor of having some chatter in the background. A meager attempt to drown the absonant whispers in his brain. 

\----------- 

Upon waking up the following morning _,_ the first thing Reiner became aware of was that he wasn’t in his own room. The second was that he forgot to turn off the TV _,_ mentally shuddering at the consequences on their electricity bill. The third thing that struck him was the throbbing pain in both his neck and back. Just _,_ when would he ever learn to not fall asleep in inappropriate places his body wouldn’t thank him for? He winced in agony when he tried to scramble into a sitting position. He blinked his eyes into focus _,_ wondering briefly where he had last put his phone _,_ before he became aware of another presence in the living room. 

“Good morning,” a feminine voice he didn’t recognize chirped from behind him. Reiner instinctively snapped his head around toward the source _,_ yelping at the searing pain that shot up his neck. “Yeah, that wasn’t a brilliant idea _,_ blacking out on the sofa.” 

“I didn’t _black_ _out_.” Reiner grumbled, voice still hoarse from sleep. 

“Right. Listen _,_ mate,I’d love to chat, but I got to hit the loo, so if you’ll... _”_

“To your left _,_ that way.” He pointed toward the exit of the living room. 

The stranger woman _,_ whom was clad in Pieck’s bathrobe, gave him a thumbs up before she hurried toward her destination. Reiner grunted as he rose up before trudging toward the kitchen. He had a feeling Pieck’s companion would stick around for Breakfast. 

A later conversation that had been entirely monopolized by the blond, English woman made him silently pray Pieck wouldn’t keep this woman around for long. A furtive glance at his roommate persuaded him she wouldn’t– she looked equally bored as she kept nodding mechanically to almost everything her last night’s date blabbered about. 

His phone buzzing from its spot on the coffee table intercepted his attention. So _,_ he slid from his seat by the dining table _,_ ignoring Pieck’s pleading looks to not leave her alone with the humanoid parrot she deemed it rational to hook-up with the previous night. 

He felt angered for a fraction of a second by his treacherous heart when it skipped a beat upon seeing that he received a text from Bertholdt. He swiped at the screen with a trembling thumb _,_ heart hammering against his ribcage as his eyes roamed the smaller screen’s content. 

_I know you said you needed some space but If you feel like meeting up anytime or just_ _, talk, call me. I just miss you. I’m sorry again_ – _Bert_

Reiner let out a ragged breath _,_ feeling a tear slide down his cheek. 

He could try all he wants, cite by heart every argument why this is a **terrible** idea that’d end up with him even more broken that he already is. But he knew he had no choice. 

He just can’t stop loving him. He never will. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I will update twice the following week albeit with a slight change to the schedule. So, there will be a new chapter on Tuesday then on Saturday. We will resume the regular updating schedule on Sunday the week after. See you then xx


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update as promised xxx

**Bertholdt**

“Please say ‘yes’” Bertholdt pleaded with the person on the other end of the line, for the third time that afternoon. 

“Bertholdt...” Reiner sighed in frustration but, Bertholdt knew it was only a matter of seconds before he’d cave. 

“I’m bored. I’m alone and I need to work but, I can’t. I need some company.” Bertholdt explained, knowing fully well that he was just short of whining. 

“Where is your fiance?” 

“On the rink, doing triple toe jumps and whatever other...stuff they do. I can no longer keep up.” 

“So, my job is to babysit you when Mummy’s not around?” Reiner quired, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“No, but as my friend, you should come to my rescue when I need you. And I’m in dire need of a company.” Bertholdt was definitely whining like a kid now. He ought to be embarrassed but, he wasn’t. Reiner brought in him a childlike lightness he never knew he had. The feeling was actually very welcome. 

“So, I’m your last resort for entertainment?” Reiner wanted to know, bemused. 

_Never._

“Only the third person I called in the last hour.” Bertholdt lied, somehow feeling uncomfortable to share his earlier thought with his caller. 

“Then you’re going to call a fourth, cause I’m bailing out.” Reiner deadpanned. 

“No, you’re not!” 

“Bertholdt, I need to prepare the next semester’s lessons. I really need to get it done by the end of the week, and it’s already Thursday.” Reiner protested, albeit feebly. Good, he started considering it. Bertholdt just needed to play his cards right and he’ll finally have someone he could talk to other than himself. 

“Which starts in two more weeks. We’re still in July.” Bertholdt countered, frowning in response. Reiner had never been big on forward-planning as far as he could remember. 

“I know but, I’m flying back home next week to pay my mom a visit. I haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving because I couldn’t go back to Ketchum on Christmas. I’ll be back a day before the school year begins on August.” Reiner explained carefully. 

“So?” 

“ _So?_ ” Reiner scoffed, incredulous, “I need to make the most of these three days so I don’t have to bring work with me back to my hometown.” 

“You won’t have to if you bring it to Brooklyn instead. Here, at my place.” Bertholdt suggested, hopeful. He felt himself grin when Reiner didn’t immediately protest. 

“And you’re sure we’re going to get work done?” Reiner sighed softly. Oh yeah, he was definitely on board. 

“Cross my heart.” Bertholdt replied with uncharacteristic glee. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in an hour.” Reiner finally acquiesced, sighing dramatically. Bertholdt didn’t miss the smile in his voice though. 

Bertholdt was engrossed with editing the very first chapters of his second novel when he heard the sound of knocking on his door. 

“It’s unlocked!” He called from his spot by the couch, before he heard the door creaking as it swung open, revealing a drenched Reiner, with hair sticking to his forehead. 

“What happened?” Bertholdt knitted his eyebrows in confusion. 

“You mean, you didn’t know it was raining outside?” Reiner took off his boots and arranged them by the front door. Bertholdt cringed when he spotted the newly formed puddle of water that dripped off his guest on the floor. 

“I didn’t hear anything over the TV.” Bertholdt tried to listen in and sure enough, there was definitely the sound of rain pattering on the window. He guessed he had been too immersed in his work to notice what was going on outside his place. 

“I need a change of clothes–this tee is soaking wet.” Reiner made a face of utter disgust. Bertholdt smiled sympathetically. 

“Annie just put on clean towels if you need to take a shower. And you can take anything you want from my closet.” 

“thanks but, I’ll pass on the shower. I’ll just turn on the dryer.” 

Reiner reemerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, toweling at his own wet hair. Bertholdt snorted in laughter despite himself as soon as he took in the way his hair stood on all ends. Reiner flipped him off before he proceeded to tame his slick strands in a more presentable fashion. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Reiner asked when he was satisfied with the finished result. 

“You’re my guest, so that should be my question, not the other way around.” Bertholdt reminded him, grimly. 

“But you still can’t walk on your feet.” Reiner stated matter of factly. 

“Actually,” Bertholdt interjected “I have been putting more weight on it since the beginning of the week. Can even walk some short distances in the apartment.” 

“Still, I would rather you rest whenever you don’t have to. 'Putting too much strain on it will hinder the healing process' is what your doctor said, right?” Reiner arched an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. Bertholdt grunted begrudgingly. 

“Beer for me. I think we’ve got two in the fridge. Annie doesn’t like beer so you can have it.” 

“I’m good with just water.” 

A few moments later, Reiner handed him his own drink while he brought himself a glass of tap water. He was soon settled by his side in the couch, before he started typing at his own laptop, a few Mathematics book stacked orderly on the coffee table. 

They sat in comfortable silence, each of them preoccupied with their own devices. The only sound that could be heard were of the soft clatter on their keyboards, and the heavy rain outside before it soon shifted into a thunderstorm. Bertholdt briefly wondered if this was really how July weather would be like from now onward. 

Bertholdt’s focus was disrupted as the familiarity of the situation struck him out of the blue. This whole situation with his friend felt almost... domestic. 

Bertholdt chanced a furtive glance to his left, taking in the man beside him. If you had asked Bertholdt a couple of weeks ago that there would be a day where Reiner Braun would be in his living room, looking as relaxed and laid back as he did, lost in his own work by _his_ side, Bertholdt wouldn’t have a believed it. He had been firmly convinced that after their row two weeks ago when he confronted his friend about his blatant avoidance of him was the end of their friendship. It had triggered some unwanted emotions they both tried so hard to suppress. Some part of him selfishly wished Reiner never broached what happened on graduation night, until the end of time. Bertholdt had never been in a relationship with anyone else before Annie, not even a casual hook-up with anyone from his school. And for the whole duration of it, all six years, he had never been a cheater. He knew it wasn’t something he should pat himself on the back for. He loved– **loves** –Annie with all his heart and he had sworn to himself that he would never, ever do anything to hurt her. That was until three years ago, Connecticut, New York. The thought about that night still made him sick to his stomach. Bertholdt had been content for so long to blame it on the Molly he and Reiner had taken then but, ever since Reiner bluntly broached the subject, he was no longer sure. His actions puzzled him to no end, and made him feel like a shitty boyfriend, _and_ an even shittier friend, as Reiner had put it ever so eloquently. Not that he didn’t deserve it though. 

He and Annie had vowed to each other to never sweep anything under the rag. Them being honest about everything was what made their relationship last for this long, despite living on opposite sides of the country for almost seven years. For a long time, he had an unyielding conviction that there was nothing he could ever hide from Annie. Nothing that would make him lie to her and breach her trust. Until he did, that cursed night. Truth be told, Bertholdt didn’t remember much of it, the details having been so hazy in his head but, he knew what he did. He remembered the initial confusion that was immediately followed by dread and then, eventual disgust, at himself. For betraying both Annie _and_ Reiner, no matter how much the latter reassured him it barely meant anything. That it didn’t change a thing between them, even if Reiner was a willing participant that night. 

Nothing about that night damaged him as much as Bertholdt’s callous actions that followed it did. Bertholdt found himself replaying their last conversation in his head for almost every night since then, his stomach churning every time he remembered the way Reiner looked distraught. Heartbroken. It made him so miserable to know that he had caused it, without a second thought. Bertholdt still struggled to accept that Reiner had indeed forgiven him. 

He had every reason to after all, as there had been some tension the first time they talked after their fight. They had felt awkward and uncomfortable, understandably. But what mattered was that they were on speaking terms, because they reconciled. 

Clean slate. A third chance. Bertholdt was truly a lucky guy. 

He really didn’t deserve a friend like Reiner but, this wonderful man never ceased to amaze him by just how... _kind_ he is, even to someone who had hurt him, and had ruthlessly broken his promise to him. 

So, Bertholdt finally made peace with what haunted him for years, if it allowed him to have his friend back. Talking about that night and facing his own demons was then a meager price to pay. 

Bertholdt wouldn’t have traded these moments where he could have him in his life again with anything else in the world. 

“What?” Reiner’s voice jolted him from his trance. 

“What?” Bertholdt repeated dumbly. 

“You’ve been staring at my face for like, five minutes, and your expression kept changing at least five times.” Reiner reached for his phone on the coffee table and opened his camera, “is there something on my face?” 

“What do you mean, five times?” Bertholdt huffed, trying to ebb his embarrassment away at having been caught. 

“I don’t know, you just looked...weird.” Reiner put down his phone when he was satisfied that nothing was indeed wrong with his face. 

“I didn’t.” Bertholdt tore his gaze away from his companion, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks in mortification. 

“You did. Plus, you’ve been acting weird all week.” Reiner remarked, Bertholdt still refusing to look at him until he got his blushing under control. 

“Sorry.” Bertholdt muttered sulkily, earning himself a chuckle from his best friend. 

“It’s fine.” Reiner drawled, before he slammed his own laptop shut, and placed it on the coffee table next to his books. 

“Want to have dinner? I can’t focus on an empty stomach. I’m only a mere mortal in case you can go on for hours even longer with just a beer.” Reiner stretched his limbs, stifling a yawn. Bertholdt glanced at the time–it was already eight in the evening. He had really lost track of time. He had been too comfortable to pay any heed to anything outside that small living room. 

“Now that you have mentioned it, I’m actually hungry too.” 

“Great, so do you want to order something or should I whip up something quickly for us?” 

“As much as it’s almost irresistible to decline your offer to cook, Annie had already made a casserole.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Bertholdt wished he had lied about there being food. Reiner's cooking was just so exquisite. Bertholdt’s mouth almost watered with the mere thought of that boeuf bourguignon he had made them one Saturday a couple of months ago. 

“Oh, Annie makes a really good casserole. Can’t make a pass on that.” 

“You can heat some for us in the microwave. Annie won’t be home until eleven, I think.” He informed him before his eyes shifted back to the screen in front of him. Bertholdt saw from the corner of his eyes as Reiner stood up before he strode toward the kitchen. He was busy wrapping some things up with some last-minute editing before Reiner reappeared again, carrying both of their plates and cutlery. 

“You guys don’t have a rule against eating in the living room, do you?” Reiner stopped dead in his tracks, looking ready to bring back their food to the kitchen in case Bertholdt affirmed his suspicion. 

“No. Who does anyway?” Bertholdt smiled in thanks when Reiner handed him his own plate. 

“ _Me_.” Reiner snorted. Right, he had always made them eat at the dining table every time Bertholdt ate at his place. He was certain Pieck didn’t abide by that rule though. 

“Wine.” Bertholdt blurted after swallowing the first bite. He frowned when Reiner started shaking his head. 

“Nope.” 

“Red wine bottle in the cupboard on top of the sink. Please.” 

“It’s the middle of the week!” 

“It’s school’s break for you. You’re not working tomorrow or even the day after that.” 

“I’m driving _later_. Unless you intend on driving me back to Manhattan or, god forbid, _Annie_. I’m not bothering her with that in the middle of the night when she’d be worn out.” 

“So, Uber.” 

“Not leaving my car here, forget it.” 

“Then spend the night over.” 

“Bertholdt.” 

“Come on, I’ve spent the night back at your place more than once every time I was too drunk to drive. I don’t see why it should be a problem the other way around.” Bertholdt mustered his best puppy eyes look which he knew often worked on both Annie and Reiner. 

Reiner groaned in faux exasperation before he eventually caved, “fine.” Seven years later, the same tactic still works wonders. 

Bertholdt uttered a small sound of surprise when Reiner reached over and ruffled his hair. The brunet muttered a weak ‘jerk’ in response, earning him a light-hearted laugh from the blond. Bertholdt fixed his usually perfectly tamed hair, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. 

The rest of their evening was as pleasant as it had started. Bertholdt couldn’t remember the last time he had loosened up. He had been feeling lonely, desolate even, for quite some time now. Ever since his legs started healing steadily, Annie had to catch up on the time she skipped her training to tend to him. So, unless he was texting Reiner, whom has been busy with preparing for the next semester’s lessons, he rarely had someone to spend his evenings with. Porco came by once or twice, as he had also been recently even busier with his job. So unless it was Sunday when Annie was taking a break from practice, he'd be sat on his couch, for hours on end. He easily got tired when on his feet, even with the crutches, and he couldn’t drag Reiner all the way from Manhattan every single day just because he couldn’t sit through two hours in front of the TV by himself. Also, the other had a life of his own.

Except that today Bertholdt couldn't bring himself to care; his apartment felt hollow, making him feel even more secluded than he’s already been feeling. 

But that wasn’t the sole reason for his earlier insistence to make his friend come over in such a dreadful weather. 

Bertholdt desperately needed a proof that he and Reiner are really OK. Yes, they started texting again and even calling each other on the phone after their “talk” but, he hadn’t seen him since then. Bertholdt couldn’t fight the nagging thoughts that maybe Reiner was simply being civil toward him, yet slowly slipping away. 

A look to his left alleviated his worry. It has been so long since he had been privy to Reiner looking like this; a relaxed, almost dreamy look on his face, cheeks flushing pink from having had maybe a glass of wine too many, laughing too easily at almost anything he heard on TV, and just so... happy. Bertholdt lost count how many times he had wished to go back in time, undo his past mistakes and everything that had happened in that stupid night. He would’ve seen more of Reiner looking like this. He would’ve been so much more content with having his best friend by his side. 

Bertholdt closed his eyes, trying to shake off the morose thoughts that threatened to flood his brain.

Things eventually turned out for the best for them, and he hoped things would stay this way. 

\----------------

Bertholdt winced when he woke up the following day and felt his ankle itch. Again. Bertholdt had never thought there was an itch he couldn’t scratch until he knew what it meant to have his broken bone painfully prickling. He knew it was proof that his leg was healing properly; that the two fragments have properly fused together by now, but it still didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

Bertholdt reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time; it was half past eleven in the morning. 

Fuck. He was running late in the middle of the week. He couldn’t be distracted with anything today until it was time for bed. He needn’t fall behind his schedule any further than he already is. 

Bertholdt took tentative steps, as he slowly eased his limbs to walk at a steadier pace, even with assistance. He stopped by the hallway and remembered his friend whom was probably still sound asleep in the living room. A detour from the bathroom to his destination infirmed his suspicion; Reiner was nowhere to be found. The cushions had been arranged back and the blanket he had borrowed yesterday was neatly folded on the backrest of the couch. Their mess of dirty dishes, empty wine glasses, and even at some point a half-eaten Doritos bag that neither of them had bothered to at least take back to the kitchen, had also been cleaned up. Bertholdt’s laptop was resting on the tidy coffee table too.

Bertholdt appreciated Reiner for being a respectful guest. He would’ve preferred though that he didn’t bolt before Bertholdt had even woken up. 

Bertholdt felt his head throbbing in pain, and like always, he questioned why did he make the horrible decision to drink, and go overboard with it. 

Too late now. He needed his pain medication and caffeine in him soon. And maybe some oatmeal if he was feeling up to it. 

Bertholdt made his way toward the kitchen, and frowned upon seeing a covered plate on the dining table. Bertholdt hummed in delight when he was met by the heavenly smell and mouth-watering sight of crispy fried bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. Did Annie make him this before leaving for her 5 am training? The food was too warm to have been cooked that long ago. He furrowed his brows again when he took in the folded note besides his plate. Bertholdt blinked his eyes numerous times, brain still foggy to decipher such a hastily scribbled note. This definitely wan’t Annie’s handwriting. 

_Brewed some coffee and there’s steamed milk in the thermos flask. Sorry had to dash_ , _Pieck called me for an emergency._

_Had fun yesterday, let’s do this again – Reiner_

Bertholdt couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

Yes, he wished things will stay like this forever. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to the gentlest, kindest, and badass-est snk character, Reiner (Helos) Braun. This was the sole reason for which I decided to tweak my posting schedule, even though this has been written months ago.  
> Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

Reiner parked his car near his apartment building’s driveway, momentarily relieved that it was still early in the day– eleven in the morning to be exact– hence none of his non-retired neighbors had been home and taking up any of the available parking slots in front of their building. 

However, Reiner was in fact running late. 

He took the two flights of stairs two steps at once, instead of opting for the lift like he usually did. He cursed under his breath when he dropped his keys for the second time, before he successfully unlocked the door and managed to get inside his place. Reiner tossed his satchel bag haphazardly, making a mental note to pick it up later, before he practically ran toward the bathroom. He took a shower in record time then trudged back to his bedroom. He checked the time on his phone.

 **Shit**.

Bertholdt was going to be here in forty minutes, and Reiner was now faced with the grueling decision as to which outfit would be appropriate for this particular occasion. He had no idea where he and Bertholdt were going to– no matter how many times Reiner pleaded with him to give away the tiniest of details as to where they were spending the afternoon and evening– so he was utterly clueless as to how he should dress. He hated to be too dressed up or god forbid, dressed _down_. Reiner quickly debated whether or not if he should text Bertholdt one more last time. His friend might take pity on him and would finally disclose any valuable information regarding their destination. 

Nope, no time for that either. Reiner decided to throw caution to the wind and before he knew it, almost half of his wardrobe was scattered in the floor after trying on at least five outfits. Frustrated with his indecisiveness, he concluded that stressing himself over such trivial matters was of no worth and a waste of time. He eventually opted for minimalist and practical, donning a plain white tee paired with his black jeans. Reiner hurried back to the bathroom and gave himself a once over. 

And the beard has to go. Completely. God, why didn’t he shave this morning? Reiner hissed when he grazed himself lightly. 

He finally had a neat, clean shaven look that Reiner didn't think he adopted in at least three years. He might actually keep this look for a bit longer. Since he had been able to get some proper rest lately, ever since the summer vacation started, the bags under his eyes noticeably lessened and he looked less tired. Combined with the beardless look, he seemed at least two years younger than he was. 

Reiner was basking in his fleeting contentment with his outer appearance when his eyes landed on the small bottle of cologne in the bathroom’s cabinet. 

Wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? 

As he checked the time again, he realized that he still had at least ten minutes before the other made it to his place. He laid down on the couch, disregarding the likely possibility of his shirt wrinkling, as he simply was in dire need of any form of respite.

Reiner didn't even understand why he was this worked up over going out with Bertholdt.

Alright, maybe he had a faint idea as to why. Under different circumstances, he would've been certain he had been asked on a date. Reiner swallowed through the lump forming in his throat before shaking his head. He had to remind himself that this was no romantic rendezvous, considering _who_ would be his companion for the rest of the day. 

Bertholdt had suggested taking him out on his birthday, somewhere supposedly nice. At least Reiner hoped he would– he didn’t exactly trust Bertholdt’s taste when it came to fun and relaxing activities– but that was **only** because he would’ve been alone on his birthday otherwise. His other two best friends annually threw him a ''surprise'' party– he's always seen it coming as Pieck could never be sneaky enough to plan anything without giving herself away since day one– but things were different this August. Porco took a week off from his job to travel back to Dublin, so he could visit Marcel and meet his newly born son. Pieck has been living in her childhood home in Idaho for two weeks now since her dad had had a heart attack. Reiner felt his guts twist into painful knots as he thought back to the time he had received her text the morning after he had spent the night at Bertholdt’s. He had initially resented her blundering timing, and was even tempted to ignore her first two calls because he had been looking forward to spend more time with Bertholdt. However, something about the urgency in the flood of texts she had sent him in the course of two minutes told him something was off. He had no idea what it was then but, he knew he had to go back and make sure she was OK. 

He had found her on the couch then, hugging her own knees, shoulders heaving with sobs. Reiner immediately flew to her side, trying his best to remain composed in order to assess what was going on with his roommate. She collapsed instantly in his arms, balling his hoodie in her smaller hands as she sobbed even louder. He had held her then, rocked them gently and whispered meaningless reassurances into her hair. She could only confess what had happened to her dad after having remotely calmed down, her breath still hitching in her throat every once in a while, as she recounted the phone call which she had received at ten that morning from one of her dad’s neighbors. 

_“I knew he wasn’t doing really well. His cholesterol rate has been high for some time despite taking his meds, and–and he once told me he had a c-chest pain whenever he’d be doing chores. I–I should’ve known... I shouldn’t have left him alone, I–”_ She whimpered then, fresh tears running down her already wet cheeks. 

_“Hey, none of this is your fault. You could’ve been living with him for the last seven years and this still could’ve happened.”_ Reiner held her small face delicately in his hands, thumbing the tears away. 

_“What if he dies? What if it was too late and he wouldn’t make it?”_ Pieck’s voice cracked. Reiner felt his heart break seeing her like this. 

_“I’m no doctor Pieck so, I can’t give you an honest answer.”_ Reiner had sighed apologetically, _“but I know one thing you should be doing be right now and that’s to be by his side.”_ Reiner had pressed his lips to her forehead, Pieck sighing shakily at the soothing gesture. _"_ _When will you be flying today?”_ Reiner had queried. 

_“I don’t know. I haven’t done anything except cry for the last three hours.”_ Pieck sniffled before she reached for a tissue and blew her nose. 

_“It’s OK.”_ Reiner breathed, running his hand up and down her back _“How about this? Hm? You look up the nearest flight to Boise for us both, and I’ll go ahead and start packing. Can you do that for me?”_

 _“Us?”_ Pieck had furrowed her brows in confusion. 

_“I’m going with you. I was planning to fly back home next Monday anyway. Even if I didn’t, there’s no way I would’ve left you on your own.”_ Reiner smiled warmly at her, faltering at her crestfallen expression. 

_“Reiner...”_ She sniffled again. 

_“I got you.”_ He pulled her into a quick hug before he released her again and briskly stood up from his seat beside her. 

_“Tickets, now.”_ Reiner instructed before he strode toward her bedroom and disappeared inside. He swiftly pulled out a carry-on from underneath her bed. 

The last two weeks of July had gone at such a tortuous pace, Reiner felt almost driven into a corner. His patience had been wearing thin with the medical and paramedical staff’s nonchalance when it came to talking to the patients’ families– a huge contrast to how health workers behaved in PA– and Pieck was rightfully growing even more anxious. He had vowed to stay strong for her sake every time she fell apart, for each day her dad had spent in intensive care. However, the hours spent on their feet, while they surveyed her dad’s heart monitor through the glass of the ICU, and the first sleepless nights when he had been admitted for a coronary procedure after his vitals couldn’t be stabilized with drugs, had ultimately taken a toll on Reiner’s physical and mental health. More than once, he found himself forgetting to take his own medication. Once, he even went as far as deliberately forfeit taking his pills. _It’s just so I can stay up a bit longer_ , He had told himself, _I can’t leave Pieck on her own while she was slapping herself to stay awake before her dad woke up_. Pieck picked up on the change in his demeanor and energy levels immediately. She had made him swear to take his meds again _. “I can’t have you falling apart when I can barely hold it together. I really **need** you.”_ Pieck had said, voice breaking with emotion. Reiner swallowed the colored pills begrudgingly the following morning. 

_Why can’t he do anything right? Why must he always need someone to pick him up and put him back together, even when they needed him the most?_

He saved wallowing in self-pity for later as right then, he needed to focus all of his attention on his best friend and her well-being, while she zeroed in hers on her father’s. They were going to make it through this, and in the worst-case scenario, he’ll do everything in his power to be there for her. 

And they did, eventually. Things got better. 

Her dad had made it alive from his procedure against all the _"logical odds"_ as his attending cardiologist had put it monotonously then. Pieck burst into hysterical sobs the moment John Finger woke up, rushing immediately to his side before she clung to her father's worn out frame, the older man drowsily running his hand through her dark locks in a comforting gesture. Reiner's eyes burned with unshed tears at the scene in front of him. He had to excuse himself and exit the room to give them some privacy, but also so he wouldn’t break down pathetically in front of at least two strangers. 

Things started to improve once they had been able to take Pieck’s dad home. His roommate had demanded that it was high time he rested properly because she could take care of her dad on her own. She also reminded him that he should pay his mother a visit since she was only a couple of blocks away. Reiner had acquiesced to her wishes after she reassured him for the third time that she had everything under control and that he was no longer needed, unless he meant to collapse on her too. 

Even though his relationship with his mom wasn’t exactly what you’d call ideal, he still felt something akin to relief upon seeing her. Warmth bloomed in his chest when taking in her softening features before she pulled him down to her level in a soothing embrace. 

Karina was glad to see him faring better than the last time she had seen him. He had looked dreadfully tired given what he just went through but, he supposed that any way he’d looked would be objectively “regular" in contrast to the state she left him in last year when he had an episode. 

Seeing Gabi again after a whole year lifted his spirits, making him momentarily forget the excruciating trials he had just went through in the course of a week. His raven-haired cousin had always had that blissful effect on him. 

A week later and here he was again, slightly apprehensive at the prospect of going back to work again. The knowledge that his pupils would be slightly more subdued during the first days of the school year, still adjusting to waking up early again and get back to their humdrum routines, alleviated some of his disquiet. Plus, teaching his passion to the youth had always been a great diversion, if not an enjoyment. One of the few things that offered him a sense of accomplishment, if it wasn't the only thing that did. 

Reiner was jolted from his reverie when he heard his phone chime from its spot on the couch. 

_Sorry, got hold off because of traffic but I'm already parked outside_ _– Bert_

Reiner felt his heart leap in his chest as soon as he read his friend's text, so he brusquely bolted upright from where he was daydreaming for the last fifteen minutes, feeling slightly dizzy with the abrupt motion. He nearly tripped on his own shoe laces when he strode toward the coat rack to grab his leather jacket (temperatures were predicted to drop later in the evening.) Reiner bent down to tuck the offending items carefully inside his abalone gray sneakers. Focusing on the task at hand was somehow easing his nerves. He locked the door behind him before he made his way toward the lift.

Reiner started feeling jittery again, the four corners of the usually roomy lift feeling as if they were slowly constricting around him. He tried not to trip down the steps of the porch and towards his friend’s car, given the way almost all his muscles seemed to vibrate from both nerves and excitement. Reiner tried to will his breathing back to normal as he slowly approached the metallic gray Kia Forte. Satisfied that he had regained a modicum of composure, he clambered inside and plopped into the passenger seat, his earlier tension dissipating the moment his eyes landed on Bertholdt. 

Reiner definitely hadn’t dressed down, even if the other was by no means exemplary when it came to choosing an appropriate outfit. His friend did wear his white collared shirt underneath his navy sweater for almost every occasion, formal or not. Although, no matter his below average sense of fashion, Bertholdt would always look dashing to him. 

“Happy birthday.” Bertholdt smiled warmly at him before he pulled the blond into an awkward hug. He muttered a mortified apology when realizing his misjudgment of their seating's situation. Reiner merely chuckled and softly patted his back. 

“Let’s hope this year will be **my** year.” Reiner said playfully as soon as he pulled back from their embrace, wincing when the gear lever jabbed into his side. Reiner tried to subtly rub the sour spot. 

“Something tells me you’re getting lucky soon, and I have a good hunch.” Bertholdt retorted, dead serious. 

“Yeah, I remember.” Reiner laughed heartedly, his mood already improved. He shouldn’t fret over the significance of whatever today could've been about. He should just enjoy himself and, Reiner had a feeling he definitely will. "Are you sure you're OK to drive?" He blurted suddenly, "It hasn't been that long since you started walking without the crutches." Reiner asked again. They already had this conversation once two days ago, but he couldn't help but check with his friend again. He'd hate for Bertholdt to push himself past his own limits. 

"Like I told you before, I can handle this." Bertholdt replied in earnest as he fired up the engine, "this is also good practice for me."

"You tell me if it gets too much and I'll switch with you." Reiner reminded him gently. Bertholdt looked at him briefly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before nodding. 

“So, will you finally tell me where we’re going?” Reiner asked tentatively as Bertholdt pulled out of the driveway. 

“We’re going for lunch.” Bertholdt stated plainly, his eyes already focused on the road ahead. 

“Lunch?” Reiner repeated dumbly. 

“Yeah, it’s midday and I assume since you’ve had class at nine, you haven’t eaten anything since before eight, right?” 

“Fair enough.” Reiner wouldn’t exactly call having a black coffee with a cigarette in the morning a decent breakfast but, he found that people frowned and worried each time he disclosed anything about his eating habits so, he omitted correcting his friend. 

Reiner gaped as soon as he spotted the restaurant Bertholdt had led them to in Maddison Avenue. He turned to look at his companion, trying to decipher his expression and determine whether or not he really intended for them to go exactly where he suspected they would. 

“Bertholdt.” 

“It’s a nice place. One of the best if one was to argue.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s above my paycheck!” 

“It’s your birthday, who says you’re paying for anything?” 

“It’s above _your_ paycheck!” 

“I think you give me way less credit than I actually owe, unlike my publisher.” Bertholdt smirked at his ~~un~~ intended pun. 

“You’ve got a fucking wedding in four months for which the expenses will pluck you clean.” Reiner hissed, incredulous at his friend’s nonchalance. 

“I think I can manage.” Bertholdt said in a tone that heralded that this was no negotiable matter. Reiner sunk back in his seat, sighing heavily. 

“Annie will murder you.” He muttered, sulking. 

“Annie’s not here.” Bertholdt killed the engine before he unbuckled his seat and clambered outside, Reiner following suit. 

Given that it was Saturday, Reiner was thankful that the restaurant wasn’t as crowded as he expected it to be. Bertholdt had reserved a secluded table for them nonetheless. It was also still the middle of the day, so the broad white curtains did nothing to dim the bright daylight, but Reiner thought he could live with that. Frankly, he couldn’t utter a single complaint while his friend was being beyond generous to afford them an upscale meal. Reiner sighed despite himself, not helping but ask one last time “you know you can still change your mind– I would understand if you wanted to leave.” Bertholdt rolled his eyes in evident exasperation, “can you just let me do this?" he reproached him, tone almost bitter, "why do you never let anyone do a single nice thing for you?”

_Because I don't usually think I deserve it?_

Whatever way this seemed to make Bertholdt happy, Reiner wasn’t going to ruin it for him, so he bit back any self-deprecating remark he might have on the tip of his tongue, and opted to solely enjoy himself.

And lord, he _did_. The food was just as exquisite as it was reputed to be. Reiner had to refrain from moaning in delight when he bit into the succulent foie gras that was marinated in mint and accompanied with some garlic parmesan baked eggplants. He eventually did moan as soon as the soft meat of the butter-poached lobster met his tasting buds, and Bertholdt had to kick him lightly on the shin, trying to stifle his own laughter when Reiner’s cheeks flushed in shame. 

“I could really die happy right now.” Reiner hummed in content while he nibbled on the chocolate drizzled pretzel. 

“Being morose on your own nameday– such a 'Reiner only’ thing to say.” Bertholdt took a sip from his water, his second dessert abandoned on his plate. Reiner doubted he had ever seen him make a pass at anything sweet. 

“Calling a birthday a 'nameday'– such a ‘Bertholdt only’ thing to say.” Reiner sunk back in his seat, having had enough of the delectable mixture of savory and sweet. He briefly regretted his earlier insistence to pass on alcohol, suddenly craving a Sauvignon Blanc to wash down the luscious meal he just ate. He would’ve hated it if he was the only one between them drinking since Bertholdt was the one driving but, he couldn’t help but resent his chivalrous act. 

Bertholdt had looked touched by his decision, so the gratification from that alone will be enough for him. 

Reiner had to fight the urge to chance a peek at the check and know exactly how much this had had cost his friend, so he could inevitably feel guilty about it. Bertholdt snatched the note away from his reach, as if reading his mind. 

He didn’t flinch as he looked at the total sum. Not even a twitch of a muscle. 

Reiner tried to quell his rising anxiety by replaying in his head Bertholdt’s earlier (miffed) reassurance that he would be fine. 

Just this time, he won’t dwell on how much of a burden he was being. 

“I had such a great time.” Reiner murmured again, eyes drooping as he felt exhausted after a decadent, three course lunch. 

“Tired already?” Bertholdt chuckled, as he turned on the ignition. 

“Yeah, I could really use a nap right now.” Reiner mumbled, stifling a yawn. 

“This will probably disappoint you but, you have to hold on a bit longer. Cause the day is not over yet.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I said a ‘nap’, not an eight-hour sleep.” Reiner deadpanned, incredulous that he was arguing about semantics with Bertholdt of all the people. He closed his eyes, enjoying the fresh breeze caressing his skin, and almost lulling him to sleep. 

“I mean it! Don't fall asleep now!” Bertholdt reached over and tapped his cheek lightly, earning himself a grunt in protest, “or you can, unless you promise me you won’t snap when I wake you up in half an hour, give or take.” 

“Promise...” Reiner mumbled, faintly registering Bertholdt’s snide remark how he doubted that Reiner would be true to his word. 

\---------

“I was intending to end the evening on this,” Bertholdt admitted sheepishly as soon as they shuffled inside Whitehall’s Terminal. “The view of the star-illuminated sea would’ve been breathtaking, and Manhattan in the night is a sight you can’t miss–” 

“I’ve lived here for three years. I know what Manhattan looks like at night.” 

“ **But** ,” Bertholdt rolled his eyes in faux-exasperation, Reiner giggling at his reaction, “unfortunately, the ‘main event’ wasn’t until seven.” 

“There’s still a main event?” Reiner cocked his head in question, “cause frankly I was a hundred percent sated just from that royalty-worth lunch.” 

“Of course, there is!” Bertholdt huffed, as if offended, “who do you take me for if you thought that was all I would offer for my best friend’s special day?” 

“Someone who’s actually very mindful of how rationally he should spend his savings, for a starter.” Reiner shrugged, earning himself a playful punch in the shoulder. 

“God, you’re no fun.” Bertholdt shook his head in disbelief “Rest assured, because this ride is actually for free.” He added dryly. 

“Won’t complain then.” 

“I can’t believe you’ve never taken the ferry before.” Bertholdt remarked, genuinely puzzled. He was staring out of the window, reveling in the expanding blue sea. 

“Well, we–and when I say _we_ , I mean Porco and I–have a sort of an unspoken rule of going nowhere near New Jersey.” And so far, they have never broken that oath. He can’t ever speak to Porco about this transgression. 

“Well, I call that stupid and a shame.” 

“Not what a real New Yorker would’ve said.” 

“You’re _Idahoan_. You can hardly proclaim yourself a _New York_ _e_ _r_ , let alone a _'_ _real'_ one." Bertholdt sniggered. 

“By that logic, not a single person would be considered a New Yorker, so I’m sticking to my guns.” 

“There is more than one argument to counter that but, I’d rather enjoy the ravishing scenery instead.” Bertholdt concurred before he turned his gaze back outside his window. 

_Oh, I know all about 'ravishing', don’t you worry_ , Reiner smiled, almost melancholic. He might not have found the plain water as enthralling as his companion seemed to do but, the particular view he had _across_ from him was his exact idea of what’s wondrous. 

Reiner had long since made peace with the fact that he could never stop loving Bertholdt. It didn’t matter to him if he was engaged to someone else, or that even if he wasn't, he will never see the day Bertholdt mirrors an ounce of the feelings he's harbored for him for as long as he could remember. Reiner once firmly believed that any emotion he might have strongly felt for him before had extinguished during all those years they’ve been apart. That in the unlikeliest scenarios where he’d ever run into him again after their hook-up, he could’ve been chill about it. Maybe he would've even moved on and fell in love with a nice guy. Imagining all of those hypothetical scenarios felt odd to Reiner. He just couldn’t picture a life, hell, a _day_ even where he wasn't madly, deliriously in love with Bertholdt. 

He could almost laugh at the time when he was fourteen and was convinced that it was merely a dumb, teenage crush. His _'_ gay awakening'. Turns out it has never been a case of infatuation that would soon fade once he’d meet someone else. It was the real thing, the one thing he tried to steer off all his life, but failed to each time with spectacular aplomb. Because he loved him, more than anyone on the planet knew, himself included. And even though sometimes it scared him, knowing just how far he was willing to go for his friend's sake, Reiner was also in constant awe of how many more times Bertholdt would make him fall for him, whenever he presumed it was impossible to love him more that he already did. 

How could he resist his charms when he looked this handsome with the way the afternoon light reflected on his tanned skin, enhancing his naturally well-endowed feature? Or how the light breeze pushed his bangs back, while Reiner tried to imagine, not for the first time, how utterly elegant Bertholdt would’ve looked with shorter hair. How could he pretend his heart didn’t soar with fondness when Bertholdt flailed his hands as he went into his zealous speech the moment the Statute of Liberty came into view, how he still couldn’t wrap his head about how monumental of a landmark it was in the American history, just like the time he went into another one of his fervent, objectively tedious, _“fun fact and trivia hour_ ” of an oration about the Empire State Building. Reiner couldn’t care less about how many hammers were used to create the copper structure or whomever poet wrote about the statue in a sonnet titled _“The New Colossus”_ , but he couldn’t tear off his gaze from Bertholdt’s twinkling olive-green eyes, or from his slightly long but cute nose, or his forlorn, grieving expression when he recounted solemnly the crash of the American legion into the concrete seawall near the statute several decades ago. 

He had to divert his eyes swiftly though when Bertholdt looked at him, a hopeful, dazzling smile stretched on his face as he asked him whether or not he was actually enjoying himself. Reiner nodded vigorously, praying that the orange and pink hue of the sunset would conceal his furious blush. 

And just when Reiner had thought that his day couldn’t get better, and that his brain was almost fried up after pondering every synonym of the word “beautiful” which could authentically describe the miraculous, congenial existence that was Bertholdt Hoover, his best friend announced to him that he had bought them tickets for one of his favorite bands' concert. The Battery Park city was very crowded as it was the weekend. At some point, one of the patrons had bumped into Reiner, spilling his beer on his white shirt. He refused to let that little incident sour his mood, because he was just so thrilled to finally see _Blur_ perform live, almost twenty feet away from him for the first time in his life. Reiner had been too busy with his job and what had transpired with Pieck’s dad to realize they were performing in New York for the first time in years. Reiner had even considered going to see them last year for their tour in London but, never got around to do it. 

Bertholdt knew him too well though to realize this was exactly what he needed on his birthday. Reiner couldn’t argue with that–it was the most thoughtful present anyone had ever gifted him. 

He felt overwhelmed by a rush of nostalgia as he sang along _Country House and Charmless man_ with Bertholdt, whom has never been a particular fan of the band as far as he could remember, or of Indie Rock in general. The crowd's rapturous cheers and applause for the British band was ringing his eardrums, but Reiner didn't even mind. He was too elated to be bothered by any surrounding nuisance. 

He hadn’t lied to Bertholdt earlier, as morbid as his confession had been judged but, he liked to reiterate his statement still– he would really die happy if he was meant to today. He would’ve been in the best place and with the best man he could ever hope of spending his last hours with, without a shred of regret. 

Reiner pulled Bertholdt into a gentle hug, heedless this time about anything jabbing into his side, “I really had fun today. Thank you, really.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” Bertholdt murmured, seemingly pleased with how his day and evening went. 

“You owe me one amazing birthday on December 30th.” Reiner pulled away reluctantly. 

“I really don’t but, I look forward to it.” Bertholdt smiled shyly at him, and Reiner felt a rush of adoration for the taller man. He had to get out soon because suddenly his face was too warm and, he doubted it had to do with the stifling car. 

“See you next Saturday?” Bertholdt asked, his gaze endearingly hopeful. 

“Till Saturday.” Reiner grinned, before he pushed the door to his side open and stepped outside.

He halted on the first step of the building’s porch, looking over his shoulder and chancing one last glance to the Kia Forte parked on his driveway before he rushed inside the apartment complex. 

Reiner had barely taken off his shoes when he heard a knock on his door. He frowned and pondered his next action– who could be even needing him at eleven in the evening?

He shrugged before he sauntered toward the door, intent on dealing with whomever it was as fast as he could. He desperately needed to collapse on his own bed out of sheer exhaustion from the day's events' suddenly catching up on him. 

Reiner frowned when he took in the sight of Bertholdt standing on his doorstep. 

“Bertholdt?” Reiner blurted, genuinely perplexed, “is everything alright? Did you forget something?” He asked, at loss for anything else to say, despite knowing his friend didn’t come inside his house today. 

Bertholdt was silent, but was twiddling his thumbs nervously. For some reason, he looked flustered. Then an unreadable expression settled on his features. 

Reiner barely had the time to process its meaning before Bertholdt’s lips were pressing against his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🙊


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning: mention of sexual assault**  
>  Thank you for your comments everyone! They really make my day x  
> Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

Reiner didn’t know what exactly had roused him from his sleep but, when he blinked his eyes open it was still dark outside. Reiner reached blindly for his discarded phone on the nightstand to check the time. 

_4:06_

Reiner breathed a sigh in relief when he realized he didn’t need to be up on his feet until at least five more hours. He had his first class at eleven in the morning. 

Reiner placed his phone back atop the wooden furniture before he shifted on his right side, momentarily thrown off by the presence lying next to him. Reiner’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim room and as soon as he did, he felt a smile tug at his lips. 

Right. _That_... happened. 

Despite his initial appeasement that Bertholdt hadn’t bolted again right after the fact, he still felt confused about the previous night’s events. 

He didn’t know what to make of Bertholdt’s bold, almost impulsive-like actions, even hours after they did it. Now that he had ample time to mull it over, Reiner hadn’t assumed things would escalate this far. 

He recalled as he had frozen for a fraction of a second the moment Bertholdt locked their lips together. He had initially put the other's actions on the account of inebriation, before remembering that he was sober–had been for the entirety of their day and evening. 

Reiner really meant to gently push him away, because he knows all about Bertholdt’s seemingly irredeemable habit of making decisions before thinking them over. And eventually, he’d end up regretting the very same things he’d been an instigator of moments ago. They’ve already been there once and, they’ve both seen how sourly it had went down.

However, any protest Reiner had intended to voice out loud instantly died in his throat when Bertholdt cupped his cheek ever so delicately. When the brunet started moving his lips against his, before parting them shyly, any ounce of self-control Reiner might have had disintegrated. Before he could think better, Reiner was kissing him back, timid and reluctant at first, gradually growing fervid and passionate. He felt his knees threaten to buckle when Bertholdt’s hand trailed around to his back, bringing him flush against his chest. Reiner was the first to break their kiss, breathless and cheeks ablaze. Saying that those two minutes of making out with his friend was amazing was just an understatement. He barely remembered anything from the last time they kissed–as much as he helplessly hoped he would back then–but, given that they were high, he couldn’t imagine it was more than a sloppy mash of lips. 

_“_ _Bertholdt_ _... I–”_ He had no idea what he was even supposed to say. Stating that he hadn’t seen this coming would’ve been unnecessary, because that should’ve been obvious. Not after their last fight two weeks ago. He didn’t dare look Bertholdt in the eyes, somewhat apprehensive about seeing him mirror his own confounded expression. Before he could even form a coherent thought as to how he ought to broach what just happened, and how utterly problematic it would soon prove to be, Bertholdt grasped his hand. Reiner barely had the time to question it before his friend was steadily leading him toward his bedroom, stubbornly silent. His hold on him had been loose though, as if giving him the option to pull away. Reiner could only follow meekly, uncharacteristically quiet himself. He gulped audibly, heart hammering against his ribcage. A tingling, warm sensation was pooling in his lower belly as he thought about what they were most likely about to do. He silently marveled at the way Bertholdt's hand didn't even tremble. 

When the door to his room had clicked shut behind them, Reiner simply lost track of time, and of what was happening. Although, he still had remembered to lock the door behind them, despite the slim likability of anyone barging on them. Pieck was on the opposite side of the country, yet, he couldn’t help feeling jittery, his anxious brain incapable of accepting such consolation. He even pictured Annie breaking through the door, face steaming with hot rage before she’d question him what exactly he thought he could do with her fiance. 

Bertholdt must’ve picked up on his distress, his once searing kisses faltering in response to Reiner's clumsy ones. He blinked his eyes open and stared into Reiner’s amber ones. The soft streetlights were reflecting on his face, making his olive-green eyes glint in the otherwise somber room. Reiner has never seen someone look more beautiful in his entire life. 

_“Are you OK_ _?_ _”_ Bertholdt had wanted to know, voice barely above a whisper. Reiner had wondered if the other was just as nervous, anxious even. The question had made him chuckle though, taking Bertholdt off-guard. 

_“Yeah.”_ Reiner had breathed. _More thank OK, more than you’ll ever know._ He knew Bertholdt was on the verge of saying something; perhaps reiterate his earlier question, or rhetorically ask him what they were both doing. Reiner couldn’t have handled it though. Not when lust was clouding his judgement, and not when Bertholdt’s lips were an inch apart from his. Reiner had fluidly closed the short distance between them, bringing them together in another fierce kiss. 

Lying down on his bed now, Reiner was eerily mesmerized by the figure next to him, staring fixedly at the steady rise and fall of Bertholdt’s chest, his breathing even. He tentatively reached with his hand and brushed Bertholdt’s bangs away from his eyes, the other humming softly at the touch. For as long as he’d known him, his friend has always been a heavy sleeper, while Reiner could wake up to the faintest of shuffling near him, and struggle to fall asleep again. When they were younger and used to have their sleepovers, he used to be jostled from his slumber whenever Bertholdt would accidentally kick him or whack him across the face. 

But his friend was almost motionless right now. It probably had to do with the exhaustion from the whole day, coupled with their exertion from hours ago. Reiner felt a smug smirk tug at the corners of his mouth, his cheeks going crimson as memories of the resolution of their evening flooded the front of his mind. 

His brain was still hazed from the rush of endorphins consequent to having had perhaps one of the best orgasms in his life. Reiner knew it didn’t have to do with Bertholdt being a sex god, but more with the fact that it was _him_. _He_ made Reiner feel pleasure ten times fold. He had made him cry fucking tears of joy, like he was some fucking virgin getting laid for the first time in his life. 

Bertholdt had kissed those treacherous tears away, whispering to him how good Reiner was making him feel, and that he had nothing to be worried about. 

Reiner would’ve laughed then, pointed out how utterly awry Bertholdt was in his assumptions; Reiner was _elated_ that the man he had loved for as long as he could remember was kissing him with the same need and fervor, touching him ever so tenderly yet desperately. Alas, Reiner was too overwhelmed and too aroused to translate his thoughts into cogent words. 

Reflecting back on it, it might’ve prevented him from ruining the mood and spook Bertholdt, had he blurted how madly in love he was with him. Truthfully, it had been hard to believe that Bertholdt didn’t reciprocate his feelings in that moment, when he peppered his skin with chaste kisses, each growing more passionate and open-mouthed, leaving a wet trail as he went downwards. When he had abruptly halted his affections, Reiner feared that whatever spell Bertholdt had been put under had finally broken. He couldn’t stand looking at him and see remorse and shame etched on his face. Reiner closed his eyes instead, praying that Bertholdt would mercifully make it less awkward for them, and slip outside his room silently. 

Bertholdt’s bashful tone had taken him off-guard when he had admitted that he had no idea how to proceed. 

_“What?”_ Reiner’s eyes flew open then. He propped himself on his elbows, brows furrowing in confusion. 

_“_ _I_ _–_ _I’ve...never done it with a guy before. I mean, n_ – _not, um,_ _**all** the way through.” _Bertholdt had muttered the last part. Reiner still caught the way his cheeks flushed a fiery red, despite the obscurity of the room. 

Right. They had barely done anything the first time three years ago. They hadn’t even taken off their clothes, merely rocked their hips together and came undone in less than a minute, as if they were still hormonal teenagers. 

Reiner had felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders when he had realized Bertholdt didn’t actually regret what they were doing. 

Reiner’s features had softened then. He had mustered what he hoped was a comforting smile before he started unbuttoning his jeans, registering the hitch in the brunet's breath. He had smiled encouragingly as he guided Bertholdt’s warm, perhaps too clammy, hand past the waistband of his boxers, while trying to get his blushing under control when he caught sight of Bertholdt’s look of hunger. 

Reiner had gasped when his slender fingers made contact with his sensitive skin, fingertips grazing his pulsing length. His head sunk back in the pillows when Bertholdt finally took him in his hand, giving him a few, testing strokes before he started moving up and down. 

He picked on the way Bertholdt was growing more confident, spurred on by Reiner's content moans and gasps. Reiner realized he might not be able to stave off his own climax the longer Bertholdt’s touch went on. 

Reiner groaned in frustration then when Bertholdt retreated his hand but, whatever dismay he might’ve felt soon vanished when he was silenced with a fierce kiss. Bertholdt had moaned when Reiner cupped him through his still buttoned up trousers. The brunet broke their kiss then, and hid his burning hot face in the crook of Reiner’s neck, a shuddering gasp escaping him. In less than ten seconds Bertholdt had stilled his hand, and Reiner was then once again scared that he might’ve gone too far. 

His heart had raced even wilder when Bertholdt whispered into his ear something– **a permission** – he had never thought he’d live and hear from those lips. 

Reiner could only nod vigorously before he reached blindly for his drawer, rummaging through it for a condom and lube. He grinned triumphantly when he found the items he sought, but wavered when he took in Bertholdt’s look of uncertainty the moment his eyes landed on the plastic bottle. 

_“We don’t have to if you don’t want to._ ” Reiner had reassured him, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. There’s more than one way to have sex after all. 

_“I do,_ _I really do. I–It’s_ _just_ _–_ _I...”_ Bertholdt averted his gaze, his earlier gained confidence crumbling, and giving way to the self-consciousness Reiner was used from him. 

He cupped his cheek gently, and lovingly ran his thumb over his cheekbone. Reiner smiled fondly when Bertholdt eventually looked him in the eyes again, his expression still panic-stricken. 

_“It’s OK. I’ll do it myself, for you.”_

Reiner’s carefully concealed disappointment soon morphed into an inordinate sense of bliss. It struck him then how long it had been since he last felt like this. He had been caught up in life’s endless trials in such a short period of time to pay any heed to his own needs. His eyes were sewn shut, lost in his own pleasure, faintly registering Bertholdt’s shallow pants. 

It had taken him herculean mental efforts to pull out but, he did at last, when he remembered the man kneeling to his right. Just when Reiner firmly believed Bertholdt couldn’t look even more stunning, he had been once again gravelly mistaken. His breath hitched in his throat when he took in the brunet's unusually darker irises, pupils blown in unadulterated arousal. A bewitching sight Reiner never thought he’d ever be privy to, not since that night. He was suddenly overwhelmed by unshakable melancholy, and felt the corners of his eyes burn as he remembered why this was and will always be a one-time only. Reiner swallowed through the rock on his throat, before he took Bertholdt's warm face in his palms, and pulled him down in a frenzied kiss. Bertholdt crawled atop his body once again, mirroring his desperation with one of his own. Reiner almost whined when Bertholdt broke their embrace again, and fumbled for the condom discarded on the nightstand. 

Reiner watched in amusement as Bertholdt hastily smothered himself in lube, hands trembling in anticipation of what was to come. Reiner didn’t blame him–he was feeling the same, even if he was better at hiding it. 

Reiner had imagined the next moments countless times before, ever since he realized he couldn’t picture a day he didn’t love and want Bertholdt more than anything he had ever wanted.

But nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing his vivid imagination had conjured up in his loneliest nights could come remotely close to the otherworldly feeling of finally having the man he had yearned for inside of him. Reiner was suddenly struck by the irrational thought of how much he envied Bertholdt that this was his first time.

Technically speaking, it wasn't his first time having sex but, his first experience with a guy at least. Reiner wished for a few seconds that he could say the same of his. He knew that first times were overrated but, losing his virginity to the man he adored would’ve been far more special than to the marine sergeant in his high school, whom was tasked with recruiting youngsters to enlist back then. Reiner learnt afterwards he was charged for assaulting a girl in sophomore year. 

He was glad Bertholdt had never gone through that. He had never told him about it, despite his insistence to know back then. 

Reiner guessed that all those moments, as bitter as they might’ve been, were what led him here; held securely in the strong arms of the man he was deliriously in love with, his sweaty forehead pressed perhaps too forcefully against the crook of his neck, as he tried to muffle his grunts against his collarbone. Reiner’s brain was a jumbled mess but, he subconsciously found himself muttering sweet nothings to Bertholdt, assuring him he was doing great, he was making him feel good, that he was fucking gorgeous. 

_That he loved him_ _._

He caught the words before they made it past the barrier of his lips, for fear of weirding him out and ruining their perfect momentum. Reiner didn’t want to risk ending this prematurely, despite feeling that neither he nor Bertholdt would last longer than he wished. Reiner was certain that this would be a one-time only. That the moment Bertholdt would step out of this room, he’d wish he could undo his deed, because there was someone he deeply loved, more than he could possibly ever love Reiner, waiting for him at home and completely oblivious of his transgression. Bertholdt was a good man, and whatever unknown reason for which he decided to do this, he would try again to fix it. And Bertholdt fixed his mistakes by running away, and pretending he had never made them in the first place. 

No, _no_. 

He couldn’t afford to think like this now. He had accepted the course their lives had taken. He had made peace with what was practically set on stone. This was just a bonus. A miracle. A good thing that without a shred of doubt, he couldn’t have possibly foreseen, but he will take what was proffered to him. He couldn’t let his mind wander about the ‘what if’ and the ‘if only’, not when their bodies were flush against each other, their harsh pants mingling together. Not when their lewd moans and the obscene sound of their slapping skins filled the otherwise silent apartment. He was glad he locked the door behind them, because it trapped them in their own bubble, and made him blithely forget about the outside world for one beatific hour. Nothing else and no one else existed outside of them.

Not even a blond haired, five feet tall woman whom they were both selfishly wronging and breaching her trust.

She didn’t matter here; he didn’t even know who she was. The man on top of him, thrusting steadily inside of him mattered.

Only him. 

Reiner’s inner monologue was cut short when a particular deep thrust forced a loud, lascivious moan from his lips. If his neighbors hadn’t heard them before, they definitely realized what was actually going on inside these walls. 

Bertholdt hadn’t been worried about being overheard when his own movements had faltered though. Reiner had felt him raise his head from where it was resting on his shoulder to peer down at him. He forced his eyes open to see horror flash across the taller man's eyes. 

_“Shit, Shit, Shit! S–Sorry! Fuck–did I hurt you?”_ He had sputtered, voice wobbling in consternation. Bertholdt had frozen instantly.

Honestly, Bertholdt always fussed, and usually Reiner found it endearing, if he wasn’t this frustrated. 

_“No,_ _you didn’t."_ Reiner shook his head to further emphasize his statement, _"_ _I’m OK. Keep going please, I’m almost there.”_ He uttered, voice straining from his pent-up arousal. 

_“You’re crying.”_

Reiner brought the hand that was clutching at Bertholdt’s shoulder blade to his face, and sure enough, his face was wet. Odd, he hadn't realized he had teared up. 

_“Sorry, but I’m really_ _fine._ _I’m really enjoying myself_ _,_ _and I hope you are too.”_ Reiner chuckled softly in an attempt to lighten up the mood. An unreadable expression crossed Bertholdt’s eyes before his features softened again. 

He wished he could never forget that gentle, almost loving gaze Bertholdt offered him then. Reiner didn’t want to think that someone else is, and would be privy to this affectionate look for the rest of their days, lest he started pathetically sobbing. 

Reiner had closed his eyes when Bertholdt bent down and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, then to his cheeks, and to the corners of his eyes until they were completely dry. Reiner giggled when Bertholdt pecked his nose before he locked their lips in the sweetest kiss. He wished he could freeze this moment in time, seal the memory of this holy, sacred night into his brain. Recall it for every day to come, for every night he’d feel lonely and aching, until he was old and graying and on his death bed. 

_I’ll never forget you. Even if you never did, I will always love you._

When Bertholdt resumed his movements again, gradually picking up his previously established pace, Reiner’s morose thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. Pleasure made his brain foggy, steering his focus to the delightful sounds Bertholdt was breathing in his ear. He was close, Reiner could tell from his quickening breathing and the erratic, uncoordinated thrusts of his hips. Reiner sneaked his hand between them and started jerking himself off in a hope of finishing off before Bertholdt reached his climax. After a few more, firm strokes, a guttural noise forced its way from the back of his throat before he came all over their stomachs. 

Bertholdt pounded into him two or three more times before following suit. His body stilled for a few seconds before he collapsed heavily on top of him.

 _“Sorry, I’ll move... just, give me a second..."_ Bertholdt breathed harshly, his lips ghosting over his ears. 

Reiner merely hummed in reply. His eyelids were growing heavy due to the precipitous weariness creeping up on him, as the whole day’s and night’s events caught up on him. 

He whimpered, face contorting in mild discomfort when Bertholdt finally pulled out of him. The other hissed as he slid off the used condom, tying the ends before tossing it away in the basket near his bed. 

Reiner knew then that he should say something about what just happened. That they should really **talk** about whatever this actually meant, even if Bertholdt’s answer hurt him. 

Except that he couldn’t bring himself to. He had felt too good, too spent and too fucking euphoric that he couldn’t dare shatter this illusion they have both fabricated for themselves. His tongue felt sluggish in his mouth, and he could faintly hear the creaking of the mattress next to him before slumber overtook him. 

While he pondered now what he eventually ought to do in the morning since his body had betrayed him hours ago and shut down completely, it hit Reiner that Bertholdt must’ve cleaned them both while he was sound asleep. Reiner couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to his bare shoulder, smiling softly when Bertholdt sighed in content. 

Reiner felt himself being lulled back to sleep while watching for a few more moments Bertholdt’s chest rising and lowering in rhythm with his steady breathing. 

\----------- 

Reiner groaned in irritation when his alarm blared through the quiet room. He blindly reached for his phone and hit ‘snooze’, in a hope to nod off for ten more minutes. However, he had forgotten to pull down the blinders the previous night, so the blistering sun was directly hitting his face. Reiner decided he wouldn’t get back to sleep any time soon so, he might as well start on his day. 

Reiner felt his heart drop when he noticed the absence of the figure that had slept next to him the previous night. But his fright was soon assuaged when he heard the shower running from the bathroom. 

Reiner swung his legs over the edge of his bed, wincing when he felt his muscles squarely sore from last night’s exertion. Oh well, a little bit of pain seemed like a fair enough price to pay for the almost mythical night he had. 

Reiner skipped to the kitchen, still feeling groggy from sleep. He filled the coffee maker with water before turning it on. 

He paused in front of the open fridge as he scanned over its contents, or rather, its lack thereof. He didn’t even have eggs. He hadn’t bothered to buy milk since he took his coffee black. Shit, Bertholdt wouldn't be thrilled at the prospect of not having steamed milk in his beverage. Perhaps Reiner could offer him some herbal tea instead. 

It was indeed high time he went and did some groceries anyway. He’ll make a detour later after work. As for now, he’ll just have to grit his teeth through the embarrassment of only offering his guest fruit loops cereals. 

Reiner was just setting up the ceramic bowls atop the table before Bertholdt reemerged from the bathroom again, hair dripping wet. Reiner felt an involuntary grin stretch his lips as soon as he sighted him. He looked absolutely cute with his hair slick and clinging to his forehead. 

If this world was any better, this would’ve been a sight he would’ve been used to. 

“Hey.” Reiner greeted him before tearing his gaze from the man in front of him when he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He fussed about their mugs spots on the table–a distraction in an attempt to ebb his blush away. 

“Hey...” Bertholdt’s voice sounded...odd. Reiner felt his heart sink in his boots when he realized that he sounded nervous, as if uncertain about something. A furtive glance at his slouching posture and the way he kept wiping his likely sweaty hands on his pants confirmed his suspicion. Reiner bit the inside of his cheeks–he had inkling what direction the next minute would ineluctably head into. 

“Coffee?" Reiner still couldn’t help but say, "I’d offer Breakfast if I had anything other than kids’ cereals. They’re of course Pieck’s. I don’t really–” 

“Thanks, but, um, I can’t stay.” Of course, “Annie has sent me like, five texts and I forgot to tell her I wouldn’t be home until the morning so...” Reiner briefly wondered what Bertholdt had actually told her about his whereabouts. He somehow couldn’t picture Bertholdt as someone who’d lie to his teeth without being busted. 

But then again, there were so many things he hadn’t known about him before and had genuinely astonished him about the once taciturn, insecure boy. 

Reiner wanted to say something. He wanted– **needed** –to look chill about Bertholdt sprinting again after he hooked up with him.

Reiner was thrown off by the unmistakable rage boil inside of him. Bertholdt should at least have the decency to look him straight in the eyes–literally, as he was stubbornly looking everywhere except at him– and tell him why he did what he did before he scurried away. 

Reiner knew he wouldn't, because he gets it. 

This was Bertholdt’s way of saying _I regret it. I want to pretend it didn’t happen to feel good about myself and since you obviously couldn’t, I’ll just fuck off right now._

Some bitter part of him wanted to bluntly tell Bertholdt his exact thoughts. However, he couldn’t utter a single word.

What was there even to say? 

Frankly, Reiner should’ve known better, and should’ve never gave in to his deepest desires. He should’ve been the rational one and decided for them what they both _knew_ was best. 

Reiner stood there, speechless, as if grounded to the floor. His tongue felt numb and he didn’t think he’d regain use of his vocal cords any time soon and– 

Bertholdt was abruptly looking distraught for some reason. Reiner couldn’t wrap his mind around any valid reason for his evident distress. His brain was suddenly too slow, while the world moved too fast for him to catch up. 

“Reiner?” Bertholdt’s voice jolted him from whatever state he spiraled into. Reiner blinked his eyes once, twice–he could swear he saw him walk toward him in like, fucking _slow motion_. 

“Reiner, hey,” Bertholdt said again, voice laced with concern, “hey, listen, um...” he stopped dead in his tracks as if sensing there was a barrier between them that he couldn’t (shouldn’t?) cross. Reiner absent-mindedly marveled at their blatant height difference. How easy it was for him look down on him. 

“It’s not what you think. It's not like...the _last_ time.” Bertholdt still averted his gaze to the floor, as if that would make him sound convincing enough. 

Reiner barely had the time to react before the taller man pecked his cheek. If Reiner wasn’t feeling dazed, he would’ve flinched at what felt like an invasive touch. 

“I’ll be on my way then." Bertholdt cleared his throat awkwardly, "I–I’ll, uh, I’ll text you. I’ll call.” Bertholdt stammered, nodding to himself before he slipped past Reiner toward the hallway. 

Reiner waited until he heard the front door click shut before he sent his still full mug flying. He watched with eerie fascination as the ceramic shattered into uneven shards, before the dark liquid trickled down the pasty wall. 

\----------- 

The following week went as excruciatingly slow as the two weeks he had spent in Ketchum. The only difference was that Reiner hadn’t been alone back then. He had his mother, Gabi and Pieck, whom might’ve not been the best company, but her sole presence was enough to ground him. He missed her, terribly. 

Reiner was alone for the entirety of the week. He didn’t have anyone to talk to save for a few polite conversations with his coworkers. And if he called teaching two classes of thirteen-year-old teens a social interaction, then that might’ve counted too. 

Pieck called during the week, profusely apologizing for not having been there for his birthday, again. Reiner assured her that yes, he had read her message at midnight on the first of August congratulating him of turning twenty-seven, even though he wasn’t thrilled about the reminder that he's getting close to his thirties. He confessed to her, in a probably emotional voice that alarmed her, that he really missed her, even if he didn’t want her to worry about him. 

Why should she? He was doing great. Fantastic even. Because his week has been chill, dreary even ever since he went back to work. Nothing out of the ordinary–say, nothing remotely like fucking his former best slash whatever the fuck they were now, before the latter scampered and basically vanished again. And no, he obviously didn’t call or even text, just like Reiner predicted. 

_Nothing beats being right about something_ , Reiner wished he could tell Pieck that. 

He wished he could tell her what had exactly transpired during her absence; the magical date Bertholdt took him in that may have cost him over seven hundred bucks. And as ecstatic as he’d felt for every single moment he spent in his company, it couldn’t compare to the exulting moment of being kissed by the man he was head over heels for over a decade. Reiner had believed that he had exhausted all of his luck, he would’ve told her, but the universe smiled at him again and Bertholdt Hoover made love to him. 

He wished he could tell her about that dreamy hour of the night. How for a few hours afterwards, he had really considered that if he had at least one good thing in his life, he would find the strength to carry on and get better. Maybe someday, find a meaning to life and even be _happy_. 

He couldn’t confide in her about all of the above, despite coming close to each time they both fell silent on the phone, having ran out of things to talk about. Because a foolish part of him didn’t want Pieck to view Bertholdt as a cheater. Reiner being privy to that side of him was already enough. 

Reiner was a wretched fool because he loved him that much to helplessly want to ward off any judgement steered his way. What was even worse was that despite the hurt he felt for being abandoned again, he missed him. He wanted to see him, talk with him, try to reason with him and make this right. A short-term gratification wasn’t worth losing the friend who understood him the most. Reiner wished he could go back in time and undo his mistake, bar them from committing what would cost him a friendship he cherished above everything else. 

Reiner never tried to contact Bertholdt though. Not even once. 

His contradicting actions befuddled him first before he realized that a small part of him thought that this was an adequate time to let go. Perhaps they have been destined for ruin since the beginning. 

The glum revelation threatened to suffocate him one Saturday evening, and his apartment felt even hollower than usual, so he decided to go out for a drive. Perhaps a breath of fresh air would help taking his mind off his galloping thoughts. 

Reiner was driving in the highway of the Upper West Side almost on autopilot. The rushing wind was sobering him up from the sullen spell that engulfed him like a heavy cloak. He didn’t even bother to put some on music despite usually loathing to drive in silence. He wasn’t in the right mindset to enjoy himself. He just craved the sinister quiet. He still reveled in the sound of the howling wind when he pushed down the accelerator, and drove at a higher speed. 

Reiner's phone chimed then and he instinctively glanced to the screen where it was held securely in its mounter. 

Reiner hit the brakes instantly as soon as he saw Bertholdt’s name displayed on the message notification, and steered the wheel roughly to the right, the screeching of the brakes as the tires slid through the tarmac ringing his eardrums. He faintly registered the vehement honking of a car speeding up to his left, followed by the distant trail of swears and insults directed at him. 

Reiner grabbed his phone from its secure spot and swiped with shaky fingers to read the message he just received from the last person he had expected to contact him. 

_Meet me in_ _881 Tonnelle Ave, Jersey City, NJ_

Reiner knocked tentatively at the door of the motel room, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. He felt his breathing quicken when the door swung open, revealing a dreadfully tired Bertholdt, if his sunken eyes and his pale face were anything to go by. 

Reiner tried to say something; a greeting, a jab at how awful he looked–anything to make his heart slow down a notch. His lower lip just wobbled instead, face threatening to crumple in ugly sobs as he stared fixedly at Bertholdt’s pitying eyes. 

Bertholdt didn’t say anything either. He gathered him in his arms instead and pressed his lips to his temple. 

Reiner didn’t swipe at the treacherous tears that streamed freely down his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated accordingly.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend! As a treat, let's have an insight into Bertholdt's mind a bit, shall we?  
> CW // Mention of past drugs' use.

**Bertholdt**

Bertholdt felt his cheeks flush in mortification when he realized what he was doing. He hadn’t done this in fucking _years_. 

He hadn’t tried to sort out his thoughts and feelings in his diary since he was in high school. However, he was a writer; writing, about his feelings and thoughts included, is what he did, even if he wasn’t exactly paid or trained for this. 

Bertholdt groaned in embarrassment when his eyes darted to a previous paragraph he had typed, as he realized how laughably fanfic-y it sounded. If his readers ever came across this–in his increasingly paranoid scenarios that his computer’s files were to be leaked–they would abandon him. Or worse, cancel him. 

Because he had done a grave mistake, to put it mildly. An unforgivable sin if he considered it from every possible angle. 

Bertholdt lowered the lid of his laptop, determining that his brain would soon be fried up if he kept trying to get to the bottom of his confusing, conflicting thoughts through words alone. He had resorted to this peculiar method in the first place to avoid talking to himself out loud. Granted, he was alone and Annie wouldn’t be home until at least eleven but, he still couldn’t quash his thrashing anxiety that he might be overheard. 

Except that his last resort to sort out his thoughts soon proved to be futile. It was of no solace, no matter how many words he filled the blank pages with. 

Bottom line–Bertholdt couldn’t begin to fathom what exactly had compelled him to do what he did last Saturday. 

He wished he didn’t drive the previous night. He wished he and Reiner just called an Uber or hopped on the subway so, he could’ve indulged himself with alcohol–lots of it since it took him more of the spirits than the average guy to get wasted. He wished he was drunk enough so he could’ve at least justified his actions being due to his state of inebriation. It could’ve somewhat assuaged a smidgen of his guilt for what he did. However, he wanted to be a _gentleman_ , for reasons he couldn’t wrap up his mind around. He wanted to be thoughtful and considerate.

Or, that’s what he initially tried to convince himself of. 

Reiner was alone in a day that meant so much to him. At least it did, when they were younger. Reiner had thrown for himself, despite his mother’s understandable reluctance, the wildest of parties which often entailed drinking too much and smoking blue dream blunts before having his tongue down a stranger’s throat. The blond would then routinely knock on his window the following morning to lament about it to him, as if Bertholdt hadn't been there to witness his bungle.

Reiner tried to allude that he had grown out of it; that he no longer cared about his birthday as he used to. That it was just _“a day like the rest of the year's”_ but, Bertholdt knew him too well to be fooled by his nonchalant statements. 

Besides, Pieck assured him he was lying. 

So, if Reiner wasn’t willing to admit how much he still wanted to celebrate his birthday, and that he was indeed bummed that neither Pieck nor Porco were in New York for the occasion, then Bertholdt took it upon himself to still make the day he turned twenty-seven just as memorable, even if his two best friends were amiss. 

Bertholdt desperately tried to remind himself that he went the extra mile for him because Reiner was his best friend and deserved just as much, if not more. He had tried to make up for the harrowing void Pieck and Porco left with scrumptious, ludicrously expensive food, followed by a trip on the ferry with a dazzling view of the sunset, before ending their journey with an unforgettable night–like Reiner repeatedly described it–attending one of his friend’s favorite band perform live for, surprisingly, the first time in his life. An unexpected detail Reiner revealed to him, fueled by the buzz from his dream coming true and the beer he had been nursing during the entirety of the concert. 

Reflecting back on it, Bertholdt knew he had been wrong in his assumptions about his chivalrous behavior. He wasn’t trying to cheer his best friend up. For some perplexing, and even outrageous reasons, he had been helplessly wanting to impress him. 

Bertholdt had never been able to move past that peculiar observation before he could ruminate further on the reasons behind his absurd actions.

Why was he intent on impressing him? What was he exactly trying to prove? 

Bertholdt deeply cared about him. He had never been reticent to admit that, not even to Annie, despite knowing how much she wished the opposite for reasons he still failed to comprehend. Everyone who knew of their history or simply saw them together, back then and even _now,_ would’ve come to the same, harmless conclusion. Reiner was his best friend. He had come to his rescue more than once and he had always had his back, nonplussed by the times it got him in trouble. Bertholdt had been, and will always be eternally grateful for his magnanimity. Yet, Bertholdt rewarded his kindness with callousness, by turning his back on him and cutting him off. Luckily, Reiner met and befriended people who cared about him as deeply as he did before. 

Although, that evanescent feeling of relief that his childhood friend hasn’t been alone, and had been in good hands was swapped with an appalling, hideous jealousy that completely took Bertholdt off-guard. The realization struck him first like a thunderbolt when they were out for drinks one Friday evening. For the first time ever since he rekindled his friendship with Reiner–and Pieck and Porco by correlation–he felt like an outsider to their group. He felt left out anytime any of them would bring up something that happened years ago, or an inside joke the three of them would snigger at. Bertholdt had long since determined that whenever that happened, it'd be his cue to reach awkwardly for his drink. He envied Annie who never seemed to be bothered by it. Reiner would sometimes try to roughly explain what they were missing, instinctively picking up on Bertholdt’s uneasiness, or even rarely at Annie’s request. That simple gesture would be enough to brighten up Bertholdt’s mood, albeit temporarily. He didn’t like to dwell on it but it scared–and equally astonished–him how much he worried that the other two were now closer friends to him than Bertholdt could ever be, since they have been part of his life for this long. 

Bertholdt was thankful that they took such good care of him, especially during the times he knew Reiner would fail to when it came to his own well-being, when he on the other hand had been too much of a craven to face him again after his fuck-up. 

Bertholdt, however, still wanted in. He still wanted to matter to Reiner, just as much as Porco and Pieck did to him. No, not just that–he wanted a special place reserved just for him, in that big, kind and loving heart of his that could fit as many people as it could, whether or not they deserved his unwavering attention and ever-flowing kindness. Bertholdt wanted Reiner to consider him as his best, closest, dearest friend, which he already knew he was to the other but, _more_ is what he actually craved.

He knew it was selfish of him, and that his friend was no one’s fucking property but, a stubborn, ugly part of him established that it was only fair that he desired so; he knew Reiner way before them, ever since preschool. Reiner and _him_ were different than Reiner and _them_. He and Reiner were unique, because they’ve went through so much together whilst growing up. They’ve probably even told each other stuff they've never shared with anyone else. Bertholdt knew for a fact there will always be some things only Reiner would be privy to. He wished there was at least one thing Reiner didn’t disclose with the others, remaining instead solely between them until the end of time. 

Bertholdt ran his hands frustratingly through his dark strands. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him.

Nothing that’s happened during the last months was like him. 

OK–fine. He wasn’t a monk, and envy is a valid human feeling, even though it was dangerously bordering on ghastly possessiveness. It’s just that it felt so much inappropriate considering, well, _everything_. Hence, unequivocally problematic. 

More often than once, he needed to remind himself why he just couldn’t afford to think like this. The arguments he used to persuade himself that his mindset was indeed convoluted often made his stomach churn, for obvious reasons. 

The main, blatant one being that he hadn’t been around for the last seven years of Reiner's life while the other two stood by his side, an unshakable pillar of support. So, evidently, he had no right to dictate who Reiner ought to favor over the other. Except that Bertholdt liked to entertain the appeasing thought that the latter issue had been mended. And even when Bertholdt came to the harsh realization a couple of weeks ago that his assumptions about the state of their friendship had been wrong, Bertholdt liked to think that they finally managed to move past the error of his ways. 

Reiner had forgiven him, he had sworn he did, countless of times.

Or, he at least did in Bertholdt’s fantasies slash attempts to quell his anxiety every time the invasive thought that Reiner might've lied gnawed at him during his feeble bids to sleep. 

Despite his own doubts, everything still had been perfect, until Bertholdt fucked up majorly, again. This time, however, there was no coming back from it. Because, unlike three years ago, they might have had a somewhat valid justification for their, or like Reiner insisted, _his_ transgression _._ Yes, he shouldn’t have cheated on his girlfriend of five years then. But he was high, and perhaps slightly drunk from the beer he had chugged before–he frankly had no idea what he had done to get to _that_ state–so he had, dare he say, something tangible to put his mistakes to the account of. 

Right? 

He wished he could ask Annie her opinion. But he couldn’t confide in her about such matters, lest it cost him a relationship of over eight years. He hadn’t been able to confess to her his sin three years ago and, he had never been tempted to. In the unlikeliest scenarios he did, the outcome was the same without fail–there was only a slim chance that she could’ve forgiven him, and maybe, as his ego would dictate on him, she wouldn’t even blame him. Still, he wasn’t willing to gamble with such flimsy odds. 

One thing he was certain of though was that there was no chance in earth that she could possibly say the same about his most recent blunder. No one rational and empathetic enough would absolve him of the soulless, despicable way he had wronged her. 

Bertholdt had woken up that morning, briefly confused at the not so unfamiliar surroundings. He had felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach as soon as he took in the figure lying to his right, glaringly nude, if the sheets pooling slightly under his waist line were any indication. Bertholdt had bolted upright as soon as his groggy mind pieced the puzzle, the memories of the previous night rushing to the front of his brain like a violent tsunami. 

He had tried to be as stealthy as he could be as he clambered off the bed, grimacing when the white sheets rustled with his clumsy movements. He had gritted his teeth as soon as his right foot made contact with the floor, searing pain shooting through the ends of his nerves. Having put unreasonable strain on it the previous day was predictably catching up with him. He had tried to ignored the throbbing in his limb, mustering every bit of resilience he had left as he limped towards the bathroom. He had locked the door behind him, the sound impossibly loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Satisfied that the cramped bathroom was offering him a temporary, safe haven from whatever awaited him outside, he trudged toward the bathtub on wobbly knees before he sat on the edge. Despite the cool weather, sweat was beading at his forehead. His state of undress alarmed him, and the slight sting of nail scratches he felt on his shoulder blades that had set his skin on fire the prior night, made his heart thunder in distress. It hadn’t taken him long to start hyperventilating, his efforts to remain collected proving fruitless. Even now, that part of the morning remained a blur, Bertholdt still oblivious as to how he had processed, well, basically everything. 

Bertholdt had splashed some water in order to freshen up and feel less like utter shit before he determined a shower would do better. 

Bertholdt had braced himself for the awkward confrontation with Reiner, and had been rehearsing the most appropriate apology slash explanation his sluggish, and disquiet brain could provide him with. 

He had felt confounded when he found Reiner acting nonchalantly about the previous night’s events, making them coffee as if nothing strange or, _wrong_ had actually happened. He even _smiled –_his charming, easy smile of his which upon seeing it, pleasant warmth bloomed in Bertholdt's chest. For a brief, treacherous second, he was nearly deterred from what he had intended to say then. 

He wished he could be as carefree as Reiner was. His childhood friend had always been a free spirit in that way. He had slept around a lot and greeted warmly the same guys from school or his neighbors in their town as if nothing had happened between them. 

No strings attached–that's always been his motto, and years later, that didn’t really change. 

Bertholdt swallowed through the lump forming in his throat when he remembered the reason for which Reiner would be undisturbed by what had transpired yesterday. He wasn’t held back by anyone he actually loved or planned to marry in five months, as opposed to him. 

OK. He wouldn't exactly say Annie was holding him back–he loved her, more than he loved anyone on the entire fucking planet. That's why he felt repulsed by his actions. 

Bertholdt had stammered an excuse to flee before he bolted outside, Reiner’s calm, almost soothing demeanor that contrasted with his racing thoughts overwhelming him. And when he heard the sound of glass crashing against the wall muffled behind the door, Bertholdt realized that he hadn’t only betrayed Annie, but he had also wronged Reiner.

Reiner understood that the only way Bertholdt could fix this would be to break his promise to him. Again. 

God, just how many chances Bertholdt thought he could be offered before he’d finally grasp that he'd always manage to ruin everything, simply because he never had an ounce of self-control, or half a fucking clue as to how he ought to use his brain first before doing, well, anything. 

Bertholdt had imagined, over and over again, all the different scenarios yesterday could’ve panned out. He swore to himself, that had Reiner pushed him back when he had kissed him, he would’ve never gone that far. He wouldn’t have attempted anything to convince his friend that he should reconsider rejecting his advances. They would’ve been awkward in the aftermath, and Bertholdt would’ve furiously flushed in shame. Maybe, they would’ve also laughed it off before they went back to being pals again, forgetting about the embarrassing incident. 

But strangely enough, Reiner didn’t. He had kissed him back, just as fiercely. It had hit Bertholdt then–Reiner was feeling lonely. Bertholdt felt his heart break when he had remembered the night Reiner had called him in tears, asking to see him after his date with his colleague went sour. Reiner had believed firmly that he was unable to love anyone and by consequence, unable to be loved. 

So, Bertholdt wanted to show him how wrong he was. That even if Bertholdt wasn’t exactly whom Reiner was envisioning to spend that night with, he would do his absolute best to show him that yes, he could–no, **deserved** to be loved. 

Thinking back on it, Bertholdt understood why he had hesitated to drive home the moment he had dropped Reiner back to his place. As he watched his friend climb the porch’s steps with heavy feet, Bertholdt’s heart shattered when realizing how despite spending a day in his company and having thoroughly enjoyed himself, he was still coming back to a hollow apartment. 

Unlike him. 

His hands had frozen on the steering wheel, unable to turn on the ignition of his car. It had felt wrong, ruthless even, to leave Reiner alone that night. He just couldn’t bring himself to do that to him. 

So, he had climbed outside, heart thundering inside his chest as he mulled over what he could do. He barely remembered stepping inside a lift, or pushing the button to his friend’s floor, most likely with a clammy hand. 

He had been still in the midst of processing what he was about to do, a whirl of what ifs and whys racing through his mind, before Reiner swung open the door.

Reiner, his dearest, closest friend whom he’d known for as long as he could remember, brows furrowed in confusion yet, a tired smile still etched on his face upon seeing him. 

Suddenly, what Bertholdt had meant to do made so much sense. Every reluctance and apprehension he had felt soon dissipated. 

Bertholdt had been convinced in those delirious hours that he was doing the right thing for his best friend, for the best man he had ever known in his life. This was all about him. This was all for him. 

He just hadn’t expected that there was also something in it for Bertholdt too. 

That revelation alone made Bertholdt’s head spin. 

He had never expected to love it that much. He was aware he wasn’t exactly experienced, but that hadn’t been the point. He was certain Reiner didn't have the highest of standards when it came to his, well, skills in the bedroom. Plus, he and Reiner had hooked up before, as much as the details remained hazy to this day. It was just that something felt different. New, thrilling and exhilarating, almost as if it had been their first time. However, those moments of sheer bliss had to end eventually, and Bertholdt was brought back to the harshness of his reality with a thud. Then came the panicking about the repercussions of what he did. Yes, Reiner once said he couldn’t be hung up on something he consented to but, Bertholdt was different. He couldn’t help but ruminate on what happened, unable to shrug it off and move on. 

It also frustrated Bertholdt to no end that he had nothing he could blame it on this time. He had been sober. He was– **is** –happy with Annie. He had also been content with being Reiner’s friend. He had no idea why he would ever try to jeopardize that for... whatever the fuck that ended up being about. 

All Bertholdt knew was that there was no way he could remedy this. And even if Reiner thought they could, he couldn’t bring himself to call him like he promised, because just like three years ago, he had no idea what to say to him. His resourceful, creative mind couldn’t think of a single way he could reason this and make it right without someone getting hurt. 

He knew Reiner wouldn’t have minded if he had asked him to never talk about it again. It would’ve been as meaningless to him as all the other times he had hooked up with other married or engaged guys, or simply in a long-term relationship. Merely a night where he had enjoyed himself and blew off some steam. Alas, Bertholdt couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to Annie again. He genuinely couldn’t believe he had managed to lie to her twice, for as long as he did. He felt bile rise to his mouth when he thought about their promise to never swipe anything under the rug. 

So, Bertholdt had made up his mind and decided for the three of them what was best. 

He wept silently, right next to Annie whom passed out like a light after staggering home from Sunday's practice, oblivious to his inner turmoil, when the reality he could no longer be Reiner’s friend again finally sunk in. 

Truthfully, Reiner deserved a better friend than he could ever be. Bertholdt wished he could hop into a time machine and amend each time things went wrong between them. He would refuse Reiner’s offer to take the Molly. Then, he wouldn’t have had to cut him off for the last three years. And if he had been given one single shot at fixing things, he would’ve at least undone the prior night’s events. No matter how much Reiner’s touch burnt his skin in the most delicious ways. No matter how much being engulfed by his searing tightness couldn't compare to anything he had ever felt before–not even remotely close to any time had ever felt the blissful, earth-shattering sweet release of pent-up pleasure. 

He wouldn't blink twice before making a detour from the lift chiming as it slid open, even if the memories alone were making him twitch in his pajama bottoms, while curled down on the same fucking bed his fiance slept in.

Bertholdt wouldn’t have hesitated to drive his car away, no matter how wholly beautiful and bewitching Reiner had looked when he came, eyes sewn shut and hair falling over his forehead, the soft street lights reflecting on his flushed face and making his flaxen hair shimmer as if it was pure gold. Bertholdt would’ve easily traded the lazy smile and peaceful, content gaze that settled on his features afterwards for every time he could speak to Reiner again. See him grin toothily and hear him laugh heartily, from this day until they were graying and old and sat on the porch of Bertholdt’s house while their respective grandchildren played around. 

It chagrined Bertholdt to accept that he shattered his own dream for the sake of some short-lived pleasure (one he knew he’d remember for the rest of his days) not only because it still made him warm and flustered every time his mind wandered a little, but because it would also haunt his dreams, it being the last time that he’d ever see or hear from Reiner ever again. 

But there was nothing he could do now. If he actually wished to still keep Annie in his life for as long as he could live, he had to sacrifice his friendship with Reiner. 

_“You value your relationship with her more than you did our friendship. And it’s always been that way.”_

His heart clenched whenever he thought back to Reiner’s blunt, yet honest remark. He hated to do this to him. He hated that history was repeating itself and that all he had to do was grit his teeth, utterly helpless and unable to change anything. 

He wasn’t a good man. Maybe, the people he valued most would start to see that. He was certain Reiner had already reached that conclusion, as the other hadn’t called him either. Perhaps, he had given up on him, and deemed him unworthy of redemption. Bertholdt couldn’t blame him. 

Three years ago in the morning after, he had prayed that Reiner would stop calling him to try and make amends. He had ceased to try to contact him, eventually. Maybe that was why Reiner didn't bother to even text him after he vanished from his sight this time. It was understandable–Bertholdt had no right whatsoever to expect him to try and reach out first. So, he made peace with it and went on about his week. 

It still stung him though. He didn't like to contemplate the facts but, he secretly wanted Reiner to call, still. He even found himself on guard, waiting for every buzz of his phone, instantly disappointed each time someone else's name would stare back at him. 

Come Thursday, he decided he should avoid trying to decipher his clashing emotions, for the sake of his own sanity. When he eventually caved after having spent an entire morning staring at a blank page, he inevitably became aware of the other reason for which he needed to cut ties with Reiner for the second time in his life.

Bertholdt was a revolting, greedy bastard who despite knowing how wrong his deeds were, still wanted to do it again. Reiner made him feel in ways he had never felt with anyone before, and Bertholdt shamefully craved those euphoric sensations again. 

He wanted to kiss Reiner again, to be inside him, atop him, beneath him–any way he could be close to him again. He wanted to force out those musical, enthralling sounds again from his lips, and make him writhe in pleasure. He wanted to make him feel good again. Feel loved and cared for. 

He also wanted Reiner to make him feel just the same. 

Perhaps, that was the reason he had adamantly refused to reach out to him three years ago. He had confessed to Reiner that day that he genuinely had no idea why he did it. But now Bertholdt wasn’t certain he had been honest then. Maybe, subconsciously, he had felt just as torn between his duties as his best friend toward him and his odd, questionable fixation on wanting even more than he, Reiner and **especially** Annie approved off. 

Bertholdt was convinced of one thing; he was a an emotional trainwreck. So, he couldn’t be allowed the temptation to follow his instincts. His life has already been turned upside down. The damage his scandalous actions was already irreparable, so he had to make up his mind and follow through with the wisest, albeit cruel, decision. He'd have his heart broken, and even Reiner’s, if it meant he could spare Annie the pain. She didn’t deserve any of this.

Neither did Reiner but, he’d understand him, right? 

No, he wouldn’t. And Bertholdt couldn’t demand of him such a thing. 

Annie was his future but, he valued his friendship with Reiner just as much. Annie had reprimanded him once for putting them on an equal pedestal, and even though he had vowed to her he didn’t and wouldn't do that, he had to go back on his words. Reiner and Annie were equally important to him, and just as he couldn’t imagine his life without her, he couldn’t be happy if Reiner wasn’t in his either. 

That’s how he found himself he packing his laptop and a few of his clithes on Friday morning, before driving to a motel in New Jersey. He had told Annie that he needed a change of scenery, because he couldn’t get past his writer’s block–which he was indeed going through that week–after having exhausted every tip he knew to surmount it. Annie had asked him how long did he plan to be away before he was back in track. 

_“A week, maybe. I don’t know. But I’ll still come home from time to time.”_ He had reassured her, pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss, while guts were twisting into uncomfortable knots. They both knew she's almost never home until late in the night but, this was the first time they would be living apart in almost seven months. Annie still understood his needs though, because she was just fucking perfect. She too deserved someone better than Bertholdt but, he couldn’t let her go, even if it was for her own sake. That was why he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he needed to get out of the apartment, away from _her_. His tormenting thoughts, and the intrusive memories of that night were tarnishing every sweet memory he and Annie had in their home. For his own mental wellbeing, he needed to leave, even for a few days.

Turns out that was unfortunately only half the truth. He soon unraveled the other half after spending one night alone in that remote motel. 

Bertholdt swallowed through the rock in his throat when he realized that he couldn’t lie to himself any longer and pretend that he didn't **need** to see Reiner. So, he texted him his address on Saturday evening, consequences be damned. 

Bertholdt knew he was a selfish, heartless jerk, who only ever thought of himself and disregarded ruthlessly everyone's wishes when he should've valued them the most.

To put it plainly–he had a way to keep Annie. By lying and never confessing about his infidelity to her, thus carrying this secret with him to the grave. 

He also had a way to keep Reiner in his life too. 

As he held him in front of his room, and kissed his temple, drunk on his sweet, intoxicating smell, Bertholdt knew he couldn’t bear to lose him. Reiner, and even Annie, might one day come to hate him for this, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about that, not now. 

If he could be allowed to be close to him for even one more day, he’d gladly accept everyone loathing his guts for the rest of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had been, by far, the hardest chapter to write. Typing the very last words felt like coming up for air after being under the water for so long. Bland metaphor, I know but, I'm not even kidding.  
> Anyway, what did you guys think? Looking forward to read your input xx


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your comments on the last update! They truly make my day.  
> Enjoy xx

**Pieck**

“I can get a cab myself from the airport, you know?” Pieck reiterated for the second time to her caller that morning. He was having none of it, though. 

“I know but, I’m still picking you up.” Reiner replied, dead serious. Pieck sighed, perhaps a bit dramatically–an endeavor to conceal how pleased she was. 

“Fine.” She acquiesced eventually, knowing that even if she wanted to spare her best friend the trouble, she knew she couldn’t deter him. Pieck informed him then when she would be landing, Reiner’s cheerfulness pleasantly contagious. Despite being dreadfully exhausted from having slept less than three hours the previous night, she couldn’t help but still feel excited at the prospect of going back to Manhattan. Her second home. 

She also missed Reiner and Porco, terribly. 

Pieck pondered if she could plead with them to meet up at the bar tomorrow, even if it was the beginning of the week. Even better, they could go to McGee’s. It’s been a while since they’ve been there, and she missed Cindy a lot. She was pretty sure Reiner wouldn’t mind paying his former coworkers a visit either. 

Pieck switched her phone off to Airplane Mode after ending her call. She leaned back in her seat, wincing at the searing pain shooting in her lower back. Her eyes drooped despite her feeble efforts to stay awake for a while longer. 

Oh well, it looked like she wouldn’t need to take her melatonin to nap for an hour or two. 

\--------- 

Pieck woke up an hour before the plane landed. For the rarest of times, she felt grateful for being of such a small stature as she stretched her short limbs without any hindrance in the cramped seat. She decided she could spend the remaining hour or so rewatching _What Women Wanted,_ rejoicing in the fact that she still found it hilarious, even a decade later. She barely noticed the time going before she became aware of the commotion in front of her as the passengers started to get off the plane. 

Pieck promptly took off her earphones and turned her phone back on, before she stood up and joined the queue of passengers. 

The minute she stepped outside, she relished in the feel of the crisp fall breeze as it softly caressed her face. She hated the big city during summer because of its oppressive humidity in contrast to the tolerable heat (Porco did complain about it a lot almost every single time he called her.) Usually, during that season she particularly missed her hometown. 

Granted, the summer in Ketchum this year has been slightly warmer than usual, despite the occasional days where she had to be huddled in sweaters at every abrupt drop in temperatures. But it had also been excruciatingly dry. At least, drier than she had gotten used to in the last seven years, as she found herself running out of moisturizer quicker than anticipated. 

Whenever Pieck found herself longing to go back to Manhattan, she felt a pang of guilt for the fleeting thought. 

She didn’t go back to Idaho for a summer vacation; she was there to take care of her sickly father. 

Pieck felt her stomach twist into painful knots whenever she remembered those harrowing nights she had spent outside the ICU. Reiner’s gentle hand rubbing her back soothingly while she leant against his broad chest. Her mind was racing a mile a minute yet, his comforting touch ground her to the present. Pieck frankly didn’t know if she could’ve held it together had her roommate not been there with her. She had barely thought about how the sleepless nights had taken a toll on his body just as it did on hers, to the extent that he’d disregard his own mental wellbeing for her sake. It wasn’t until she got news of her father getting out, **alive** , from his heart procedure that she started to see a spark of light in the abysmal darkness. She had ordered her friend to go back home and properly rest the moment she was reassured that her dad wasn’t leaving her behind anytime soon. 

Reiner always fussed whenever it concerned the wellbeing of the people he valued. So, it was far from being the first time he had prioritized her comfort over his own. However, as much as she was thankful for his compassion and unwavering support, she knew that she was the only person he’d listen to and realize that he ought to take care of himself. That it wouldn't make him any less than one of the greatest friends she had ever had. 

Pieck had predictably missed his soothing presence beside her when he flew back to New York before the start of the school year, the responsibility of tending to her ailing father falling solely on her shoulders. During the nights that followed his discharge from the hospital, Pieck still felt helpless and unable to quell her thrashing anxiety that her father didn’t really get better, despite his doctor’s seemingly genuine reassurances that he had overcome his most critical state. For some irrational reasons Pieck didn’t want to dwell on, she determined she couldn’t leave her father alone the first night they spent at home. So, she bashfully climbed into his bed, feeling like a child all over again. She had made it her duty to watch the rise and fall of his chest, the motions clear-cut evidence that her dad, her last family member, was breathing and alive. The appeasing knowledge had lulled her to sleep eventually. Although, she had still woken up, more than once, in the darkness of the room with her heart racing, petrified at the possibility of her dad passing away while she was sound asleep next to him. 

Her father had admonished her for treating him like a baby, thus neglecting her own health because she worried too much. _“I don’t need you to collapse on me, P. You know I won’t be able to take care of you in this state.”_ He had told her over breakfast the following day. Despite his reproaching tone, she could tell he was feeling guilty. He had in fact voiced those exact thoughts that she had to miss work for two months because of him. She had patiently alleviated his concerns, affirming that her boss was fine with it. That no, he wasn’t going to fire her because Adrian and a new substitute teacher were covering the vacant spot she had left. 

Despite her composed demeanor, she had been on the verge of cracking. It took her herculean mental efforts to not burst into tears and ask how he could think that he wasn’t worth her leaving her job for two months, if not indefinitely. He was all she had left–her mother had bled to death a mere hour after Pieck was born–and she would do anything for him, even if it came at her own expense. 

Pieck was jarred from her morose thoughts when she noticed a blond man waving at her from afar in the airport. She broke into a wide grin before she walked toward him, a spring in her steps. 

She yelped in surprise when Reiner picked her up, before breaking into a fit of giggles herself as she pleaded with him to put her down. Reiner laughed heartily before complying to her wishes, then pulled her into a bone crushing hug. 

“I missed you.” Pieck breathed. Reiner hummed in response, stroking the back of her head gently. 

“How are the suburbs treating you?” Reiner queried, staring at the road ahead of them. 

“They’re claustrophobic.” Pieck retorted, grinning when Reiner snorted in response. 

“During those two months, I really felt liken I was fucking teleported to another world–it was so _quiet_. Almost, eerily quiet. I haven’t slept that profoundly since I moved to Manhattan.” 

“Yeah?” Reiner wondered, “Frank didn't give you any hard time?” 

“He’s really better. Almost back to his usual self.” Pieck sighed, “but it took some time for him to get there.” A sad smile pulled involuntarily at her lips despite her earlier chirpiness, “he really hated me fussing over him. Even threatened to kick me out the first week.” 

Reiner reached for her hand and cradled it gently in his bigger one, “I’m glad he’s OK now.” He said genuinely, looking briefly away from the road to gaze at her, before remembering he was still wearing his sunglasses. Pieck smiled in gratitude, nonetheless. 

“So when will you be back to work?” 

“Monday. How’s Beth doing?” 

“Surprisingly well. Give me two more months and she’ll be top of her class. At least in Maths.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same about English, though. I bet Adrian is losing his mind because of her.” Pieck groaned, before she bumped her head against the backrest. She complained about her hometown a lot but, she wasn’t exactly thrilled at going back to teaching teenagers in less twenty-four hours. 

“As a matter of fact, he is. Surprised he hasn’t snapped yet.” Reiner sympathized with his colleague. Pieck felt the same. 

“It would’ve been only a matter of time before he did. Luckily, I'm here to save the day.” Pieck concurred grimly. “But enough about Beth and Adrian–how have _you_ been doing?” She tried to change the subject, lest she became even more stressed out about her impending comeback.

Reiner looked thrown-off by her question.

“Um, the usual–good, I guess? We speak on the phone almost every other day, so...” 

“Yeah, about that...” Pieck turned her head to look at him. She arched a skeptical eyebrow when Reiner visibly squirmed in his seat under her inquisitive stare. 

“What?” 

“You look... better.” 

“Sorry?” He asked, puzzled. 

“I mean, you... look happy.” 

“I’m always happy.” He deflected too quickly. 

“Reiner.” 

“Sometimes _way_ too happy, it could be problematic.” 

“Reiner, that’s not what I meant.” Pieck said placatingly, confounded at the way his shoulders seemed to tense. Why was he this uncomfortable with such a harmless observation? 

“Then what’s this about?” 

“It’s not an interrogation, I was just saying you sound chipper. And look in a better... form." Reiner rolled his eyes at that, knowing already where this was heading, "I’m glad you reconsidered skipping dinner half of the time and eating something other than coffee for breakfast.” 

“So, you’re saying I’m fat now.” 

“What? _N_ _o!_ ” 

“I know we try to be tactful when talking about weight gain when Porco's around but, maybe we should also extend that to us. _Me_ , to be more specific. Please.” 

“Reiner, you’re not fat. If anything, you look greater than you ever did before.” 

“Weight loss is off limits too–Oh, how about this? Let's just _not_ talk about each’s other bodies, for a while. Or always, from now on.” 

“Fine. Is me being genuinely glad that my best friend is doing better than I expected–” 

“What do you mean ‘expected’?” 

“considered off limits too? When he, objectively, is more cheerful, looks genuinely more laid back and at ease, instead of that always morose expression he wears on 24/7.” 

“I don’t look _morose_.” 

“OK. the 24/7 was an exaggeration. But, you do, when you think no one’s looking.” 

At that Reiner exhaled heavily, and Pieck feared she had pushed him too far. There was really no harm in her words. Something changed about Reiner’s whole demeanor. She would’ve said he now _glowed_ –as much as she usually cringed at the word–had she not been wary that he’d mock her. 

“Reiner...” Pieck began tentatively, picking at her nails before she asked, “are you seeing someone?” 

“No.” He replied, firm. Pieck still didn’t miss the way he hesitated for a second. 

Why would he hide such a thing from her? They never–well, _she_ never refrained from talking openly about her current relationships with him. But Reiner has always been secretive about this aspect of his life.

“You actually have this content, almost dreamy look, whenever we’d Skype call, you know, like–” 

“God, please don’t say like ‘a schoolgirl with a crush’ because that’s, just, wrong and, weird. Also not me.” 

“OK, fair enough. So, who’re you dating?” 

“I just said I'm not dating anyone!” 

“Yeah. And I’m not buying it. Is it someone we know? _Oh..._ is it Adrian?” 

“He’s not my type.” Reiner admitted easily, and Pieck rejoiced at how he finally opened up about what she suspected had gone off between them. It wasn’t much but, she’ll take what she can. 

“You haven’t denied my first question.” Pieck remarked, grinning devilishly at the thought of her best friend having finally decided to give dating another chance. Reiner didn't seem as enthusiastic about it though. Nothing new since he’s been adamantly against it for years. At least when it concerned him. Pieck frowned when she noticed that he looked somber, for some reason. Before she could ask him about it, Reiner was already pulling over to their apartment’s driveway. 

Reiner offered to help her with her luggage, which she declined, set on not allowing him to distract her from her inquiry. 

“You’re still not answering my question, and you know me–I really won’t stop throwing random names at you until you spill.” Pieck sing sung as she followed Reiner on his heels. She was feeling buzzed from her earlier power nap, and the excitement awaiting the announcement of some, highly anticipated, good news. 

“OK, fine.” Reiner growled. “It’s someone you know but, he’s also quite famous. Hence, I’ll get in legal trouble if I ever confessed about our relationship. So, I can’t tell you about it.” 

Pieck was taken aback by the graveness in his tone and for a moment, she almost believed him. Almost. 

“You’re fucking with me.” Pieck chuckled, albeit nervously. 

“I am. And that’s your cue to never broach this subject ever again.” Reiner said with a finality that left no room for further discussions. Pieck felt apprehensive about this knowledge. She suddenly didn’t even feel as gleeful about the matter as she had been moments ago. 

“Is it serious though?” Pieck still wanted to know one last thing, even though she would’ve already guessed. 

“It’s a fling. Plus, you know me–I don’t do relationships. And this will probably be the furthest I’ll ever go. Now, please, can we not talk about this again?” Reiner looked at her pleadingly. 

“Fine.” Pieck shrugged, “can we still talk about sex-related details?” 

“No.” 

\--------- 

“Legal trouble?? Oh, for fuck’s sake, he’s–I don’t even know what to say at this point!” Porco huffed angrily before he took a long drag of his cigarette. 

“He’s bluffing, obviously.” Pieck said, before exhaling a puff of smoke. She had been careful not to smoke around her father, who was already irritated at having to quit. However, she had truthfully missed the buzz from nicotine coursing through her brain. 

“Oh, of course he is.” Porco stabbed angrily the end of his cigarette onto the wall before tossing it away. 

As soon as Pieck was alone in the apartment the moment Reiner went out for some errands, she had asked Porco to come over. She missed him a lot, more than she wanted to admit or show to him. And even though he had visited her in Idaho as soon as he flew back to the states from Ireland, he didn’t stay over for long. He had to get back to his job after all. 

But putting her own feelings regarding the redheaded– **strawberry blonde** , like he’d correct her– aside, she direly needed to talk to him about Reiner. So, she invited him over to catch up, which was why they ended up on the rooftop, smoking cigarettes and relishing in the warmth it offered in contrast to the otherwise chill weather. 

“I almost believed him, because I wouldn’t put past him to get involved with someone dangerous. I mean, he had done so, on multiple occasions–we’ve yet to rule out three more political figures from Albany to guess who he had hooked up with three years ago so–” 

“No. He's not in any legal trouble per se. Although, that guy is fucked.” 

“I think that already happened.” Pieck giggled when Porco groaned in exasperation. 

“I was talking figuratively! Why do you have to make everything weird?” 

“We’re friends, it’s not weird.” 

“It’s a little bit weird.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Anyway.” Porco cleared his throat awkwardly, “I think I know who Reiner is, um, _seeing_.” He sounded wary. Pieck cocked her head in question, urging him on. 

“I mean, I’m not sure–I'm just speculating.” 

“Pock, just spill.” 

Porco looked nervous, and Pieck doubted it was only due to the nicotine’s effect. 

“It’s Bertholdt.” Porco blurted, “I mean–I _think_ it’s Bertholdt.” He rectified quickly but, Pieck didn’t care the least. She was already shocked enough, as her mouth hung open, her own cigarette falling from her grasp on the tarmac below. 

“Porco, this is no joking matters.” Pieck extinguished the cigarette with the sole of her boot. 

“I’m not joking.” He argued, but she was having none of it. 

“Why? What could have possibly made you think that?” 

“I saw them, in the hospital. When Bertholdt broke his leg last spring in Pennsylvania.” Pieck raised an eyebrow in a silent plea to just stop stalling and tell her everything he _thought_ he knew. 

“You saw them...?” 

“Hugging.” He said simply. 

“Hugging.” Pieck repeated, dumbly. 

“Yeah and it was... weird.” 

“Unbelievable.” Pieck shook her head, her heart rate slowing down back to normal. 

“I know right.” 

“I meant _you_!” Pieck deadpanned, incredulous. Porco looked genuinely confused. 

“God, you’re such a _man_.” 

“Wha–” 

“A straight, cis, white man. You saw two guys hugging then immediately thought _‘gay’_ ” 

“ _N_ – _No_. Why would I think that? I’ve seen them hug before, and I hug Reiner too. Why would I think that’s gay?” 

“Well, maybe then you shouldn’t accuse your best friend of having an affair with his _engaged_ friend, just because, oh let’s see, Bertholdt could’ve easily died in that car accident, and Reiner was scared witless!” Pieck hissed vehemently. She felt bitter satisfaction when Porco recoiled under her scrutiny. 

“That’s not why I thought– **think** –they're a thing. If you’ve seen them, you would’ve thought the same.” 

“Trust me, I don’t think I would’ve.” 

“It wasn’t just two pals hugging. It was strangely, uh, _intimate._ I’ve been around them before countless of times, and they never acted like that.” 

“God, this was a mistake.” Pieck scoffed, before she rose from her plastic chair. 

“Oh, come on.” 

“No, seriously, Pock. Forget I ever mentioned Reiner dating anyone, and don’t you ever bring up your ridiculous theory in front of him. If you ever do, I won’t intervene in case things went south because, you would’ve deserved it.” Pieck raised her finger in a warning. Porco merely rolled his eyes. 

“OK, fine. I won’t speak about my hunch ever again.” 

“Thank you–” 

“Instead, I’ll be rational and logical. You know how I’m quite a bit of a detective.” Porco crossed his arms in front of his puffed out chest. Pieck this time rolled her eyes at him. _Oh Christ, he we go again_

“So, Reiner told you, or rather, you emotionally extorted the information from him that he’s dating a guy. He said he was famous, but under his own admission, it was a fib. However, I think there is some truth to it–Bertholdt is a newly published author. He’s also writing another book for his own saga. So, even though he’s not easily recognized, in a few years, he’ll be quite infamous.” 

“That hardly proves _anything_.” 

“Let me finish.” Porco growled, and Pieck resigned herself to her fate, “he also said it’s not serious and only temporary. Bertholdt is getting married in less than four months so, their relationship would be just that. But in the scenario where they don’t end their affair even after Bertholdt gets married, and Annie finds out, Bertholdt could get in legal trouble if she files a divorce for adultery. Reiner mentioned he would be the one getting in trouble but, that was a tactful diversion.” 

“Are you done, Mr. Holmes?” Pieck knew she sounded catty but, she’d rather be that or show how truly fretful she was increasingly becoming. 

“Also, Bertholdt is someone you and I, know. Something you suggested first, before he played along with it, albeit with some alterations.” He said finally, seeming proud of himself. Pieck wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. 

She didn’t want to admit that his reasoning was growing intelligible by the second. Of course, she had her own doubts–because Porco’s proclaimed ‘powers of deduction’ were more of a miss than a hit, at least ninety nine percent of the times– but it still filled her with unshakable dread at the possibility of it turning out to be true. 

“Bertholdt is straight.” Pieck argued weakly, her words sounding unconvincing to her own ears. 

“Says who?” 

“Says Reiner.” Pieck swallowed the lump forming in her throat, dreading his answer. 

“Right. If I recall correctly, it was something Reiner told you in the midst of his breakdown, eleven years ago.” 

“I believed him. I still do.” 

“We both always do, but, news flash–Reiner lies all the time. We both know it. It's not always for bad reasons, but he hides stuff from us and lies to our faces. I’ve long since accepted that, and frankly, I thought you did.” Pieck already knew that, having been Reiner’s close friend longer than Porco had ever been. It still felt good to pretend she didn’t see through his acts. She didn’t really judge him for it, and she knew Porco wasn’t either.

“Why would he lie about this? He had seemed genuinely heartbroken. I–I’ve never seen him like that.” 

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t think there any confession that was rejected harshly or even politely.” Porco confessed, as if that’s been on his mind for a while, “maybe because he was devastated that Bertholdt chose Annie over him, but still didn’t want to accept it. If Bertholdt’s straight, then Reiner couldn’t feel awful or self-conscious about it.” 

“He loved him that much that he couldn’t believe his feelings weren’t reciprocated, so he made that lie his reality.” Pieck concluded solemnly. Porco nodded heavily in agreement. 

“Loves.” Porco said after a while. 

“Sorry?” 

“He _loves_ him, present tense.” 

“Pock... this is still some really, _really_ wild speculation.” Pieck reminded him as she fell heavily back on her seat. She desperately needed to cling to all of this still not being tangible facts. God, she could never approach Reiner about this. 

“I hope it’s all it’s ever going to be.” Porco uttered before turning to look at her, his somber expression mirroring her own, “but I know what I saw, Pieck.” 

“Frankly, if it turns out that you guessed right, it’ll be quite the surprise, given how oblivious you are.” 

“Backhanded but, not in the mood to riposte.” Pieck’s attempt for humor were ultimately unsuccessful. “I just don’t get what’s in this for Reiner. I mean–Bertholdt, I’d maybe understand. This could be him exploring his own bicuriosity or something, gambling with almost everything he has in a shaky morale area, but still, not that uncommon to begin with. Reiner, however, would be just setting himself for a disappointment. I’m certain he knows that.” 

“Disappointment would be an understatement then.” 

When Porco bid her goodbye an hour later, Pieck was left to her galloping thoughts as she pondered her next plan. She knew Reiner wouldn’t take it well since she promised that she wouldn’t bring up his new relationship ever again. There was also no easy way to straight up ask him whether or not he’s sleeping with his best, emotionally unavailable friend. 

She was nearing her limits as she weighed down the pros and cons of what she ought to do about this revelation instead of standing still doing nothing while watching her best friend self-destruct. When her roommate stepped inside the house, hands full with their groceries bags, a peaceful expression on his face, Pieck decided that whoever he was seeing, and even if he was guaranteed to have his heart broken at the end, perhaps she should allow him these short-lived moments of contentment. Who knows, maybe she and Porco were just worrying over nothing. Maybe it wasn't even who they thought it was.

“So, do you want anything in particular for dinner?” Reiner asked her as soon as he reemerged from the kitchen. Pieck’s heart soared upon seeing his heartfelt smile. Yes, she wanted to let him be happy, for as long as it could last. 

“Actually, I’m craving Carbonara.” 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Enjoy reading xx  
> CW: vomiting

**Reiner**

Reiner could easily call the view from where he was kneeling near the edge of the bed, bewitching. Bertholdt had been propped up on his forearms at first, eyes half-lidded and gaze glossed over from arousal, while Reiner slowly bobbed his head up and down his length, each time taking an inch deeper of him. And when he hollowed his cheeks, the way he knew most guys he gave head to particularly _loved_ , the brunet sunk back into the sheets, a guttural moan escaping his lips. Reiner knew he was close, from the way his thighs were trembling, and how he was harshly panting. He found the way Bertholdt desperately tried to muffle his voice quite endearing. Although, Reiner wanted to hear more of those delightful, lust-laced sounds of his. He reached forward with his hand, and rubbed softly at his hipbone, a silent plea for the other to just let go. Bertholdt rested his hand atop his head, before he began thrusting slowly into his mouth. After two, three more thrusts of his hips, he felt warmth rush down his throat. Bertholdt stilled his movements then, moaning softly as he came. After having swallowed every last drop of his seeds, Reiner released him, before tucking him back into his pants. Bertholdt giggled softly when Reiner pecked his belly, before crawling back into the bed. 

“Fuck...” Bertholdt heaved as he tried to catch his breath, “that was amazing.” 

Reiner couldn’t help but peck his rosy cheek, and smiled when Bertholdt turned his head and locked their lips in a chaste kiss. 

“Just, give me a minute and I’ll return the favor.” Bertholdt rested his forehead against his, eyes closed. Reiner felt his heart flutter at his blissful expression. 

“I’m fine. Maybe, some other time.” Reiner pressed his lips to his forehead, lingering for a few seconds. 

“Are you sure?” Bertholdt wanted to know. They have been sleeping together for the last two months. Yet, despite having realized that Reiner, _well_ , didn’t feel up to it as much as he did, he always felt the need to ask again. Reiner loved him even more for that. 

“Mm.” He hummed, before resting his head on his companion’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, relishing in the intimacy their closeness offered. This had always been the part he looked forward to the most after having sex. Being with Bertholdt didn’t change that. 

They stayed like that for a while, a comfortable silence settling between them. Reiner felt his eyes drooping, lulled to sleep by the soothing sound of their calm breathing, and the soft rain pattering on the window of the motel room. 

He was barely lucid when Bertholdt’s voice startled him, “no, _no_. You’re not falling asleep on me when it’s Saturday. It's barely four in the afternoon!” 

“Would be perfect to take a nap.” Reiner countered weakly. 

“No, it wouldn’t. Let’s do something.” Bertholdt scrambled into a sitting position, and Reiner instantly missed their earlier proximity. 

“Fine. What do you want to do?” Reiner muttered, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips when he felt Bertholdt’s hand card into his blond strands. He sighed in content when he felt his short nails scratch lightly at his scalp. 

“You keep doing that and I’ll fall asleep for real.” 

“No, you won’t.” Bertholdt murmured softly, “cause we’re watching a movie. Or, something.” 

“Alright. Pick something.” 

“I don’t know much about movies and shows.” Bertholdt shrugged, “so you go ahead.” 

“Well, I don’t like that I’m always the one picking what _we_ should watch.” Reiner shrugged. “Besides, I know you don’t even like half the stuff I recommend, but never utter a single word about it.” 

“That’s not true.” Bertholdt denied instantly. 

“Mhm.” Some things really don’t change, "so, I insist that you pick this time.” Reiner said firmly, to which Bertholdt grumbled before reaching for his laptop on the floor. “This one?"Bertholdt pointed to the movie trailer that’s been playing in the background after scrolling through his Netflix feed for at least ten minutes, “It doesn't look overly complicated plot wise, and it’s... aesthetically pleasing.” 

“Fine by me.” Reiner acquiesced. Frankly he didn’t care whatever they’d wind up sitting an hour or two for. He was comfortable as he was that he didn’t need anything else. 

They made themselves comfortable again, lying down the mattress with Bertholdt’s laptop resting on his stomach. For a while, they were both silent, lost in the movie’s plot. Reiner found himself entranced with its soothing simplicity and its likable characters. He did cringe, sympathetically, at the jock’s obliviousness regarding what was exactly going on between his friend and the girl she had been trying to woo for his sake. Bertholdt shared the same thought with him. Although, he doubted he knew how much it hit home for Reiner when he had been the protagonist’s age. 

He gradually found himself zoning out, as he reminisced on the latter observation. He hopelessly tried to push away the negativity that threatened to swallow him and keep present. 

He was where he had always wanted to be after all; nestled against the side of the man he loved, the novel yet, somewhat familiar domestic aspect of their new dynamic making him feel whole. He knew he ought to simply enjoy it for what it was, no questions asked, but Reiner obviously could never do that. His mind just could never _not_ _wander_. 

Reiner initially struggled for weeks after they had first hooked-up, deciphering the reason for which Bertholdt, seemingly out of nowhere, started seeing him _this_ way. On his good days, he would simply consider it a victory worth of celebration, and he’d shower the other man with corny affections, earning gleeful giggles in return. In his bad days, he’d firmly believe Bertholdt was just using him. Whether be it to quench his own bicuriosity before he’d realize he was actually straight–that hypothesis became less and less likely, the more time they spent together–or because he and Annie haven’t been doing it as often as they used to, given that she was busy training for Nationals for every minute she could afford. A thought led to another and eventually, his ponderings about what led two platonic best friends to fall in bed together turned into picturing the moment Bertholdt would put an end to their affair. His mind raced a mile a minute as he not only dreaded the impending day, but also wondered how it exactly would pan out. Will it be a mature conversation where they both end things on civil terms, with a tad bit of stuttering and awkwardness from the taller man? Would it a dreadful experience where Reiner has to sit through a harrowing five minutes of Bertholdt desperately trying to come up with the least cliché breakup lines and failing miserably? Or would he simply ask if they could go back to being ‘just’ friends? 

And when would that be? Would it be right before the big day? Or in the last hour of his bachelor party where he’s given the pass for one last chance to fool around before staggering to bed with him? Or would it be even before? 

Reiner often fell prey to such self-destructive patterns of thoughts. Jumping forward to the ending when the good part was just getting started. That was why Reiner almost never got around to finish watching most of his favorite shows or the books he had been once intrigued by its premises. 

He hated endings. This new relationship with Bertholdt wasn’t any different. 

So, he found himself tempted to beat Bertholdt to it and put an end to it himself. Reiner at first didn’t question it–why would he need to end things when he dreaded the very same thing? However, the urge to do it had been hard to fight, especially in the very first few days. Three weeks ago, Reiner had really come close to. The thought first struck him as he was coming from the high of an earth-shattering orgasm, after riding his lover until the other came undone, a mantra of his name on his lips. That was what had tipped Reiner over the edge; Bertholdt looking utterly gorgeous, with his face flushed, eyes sewn shut and his mouth hung agape as he choked on a moan before he shuddered beneath him. The man lying underneath him looked reverently beautiful. And as soon as his heart rate slowed back to normal, Reiner’s primal defenses flared up. 

His first instinct was to _leave_. Get out, while he still had it under control. End it when it was still up to him. He was going to have his heart ground to dust anyway, so might as well have it on his own terms. 

When all that could be heard was the thunderstorm outside and Bertholdt’s breathing, the words had been right on the tip of his tongue. But as soon as Bertholdt turned his way, smiling tiredly at him, any willpower Reiner might’ve had had instantly evaporated. 

He couldn’t do it. His tongue felt numb in his mouth and his heart clenched as he pictured saying something so horrible and cold-blooded when they were clawing at each other’s skins, holding on for dear life. 

Not like this. Bertholdt had broken his heart so many times but, it didn’t mean he had to be just as ruthless. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself for it. 

So, that day wasn’t the day he’d do it. 

His clashing emotions had yet to be subdued though. Reiner needed out, because the longer he gazed at Bertholdt’s blissful expression, the harder it was for him to think rationally. It had been a couple of minutes of what usually was a comfortable silence settling between them, but to Reiner, they felt like eternity. Torturous hours while the gears in his brain shifted to provide him with the most gullible excuse to bail. 

Reiner had reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, silently wishing Bertholdt had fallen asleep so he could simply leave a note, before he started putting his clothes back on. He watched from his peripheral view as Bertholdt scrambled into a sitting position, puzzled. 

_“You’re,”_ Bertholdt’s voice had come out raspy so he cleared his throat before he began again, _“you’re not staying the night?”_

 _“I can’t. I’ve got some markings to do.”_ It hadn't been a lie. 

_“It’s Friday evening. You can get it done by tomorrow, or even Sunday.”_

_“I promised Pieck to go out with her for some errands. The apartment needs some maintaining and some cleaning up, it’s high time we got around to do it.”_ Actually, they hadn't–their place was neat, and basically perfect. 

_“Oh.”_

He could tell from the way Bertholdt fell silent shortly after that he hadn’t bought his fib. The brunet hadn’t pushed it though. 

Oh god, Reiner couldn’t leave him like this. He couldn’t just lie to his face and vanish. 

Reiner was almost deterred from leaving, until it had hit him. Bertholdt's one weakness. 

_“Bertholdt... I, uh...”_ Reiner began tentatively, chancing a furtive glance toward his friend, _“I think we should, um... lie low for a while.”_ He cleared his throat awkwardly when he saw Bertholdt arch an eyebrow at him, confused. _“Annie might get suspicious. My friends too.”_ He tore his gaze away when he saw Bertholdt tense at her name unexpectedly dropped in conversation. 

It had gone without a saying that she was never to be mentioned the moment they’d set foot inside these walls. Reiner had just violated that rule. But in his defense, he was panicking despite his composed demeanor, and would’ve done anything so he could have an excuse to bolt through the door. 

_“I know,”_ Bertholdt had said then, voice barely above a whisper, _“no, y–you're right.”_

Reiner had nodded curtly before striding toward the door, briefly reminded of the aftermath of most of his one-night stands. 

For months, Reiner had believed that his uneasiness about relationships was because he hadn’t found the one yet. And when he had met Bertholdt again, and slowly rekindled their friendship, he thought that _he_ was the missing link. The sole reason he couldn’t settle for anyone else. 

He had found _his_ person. The only man Reiner just _knew_ he could ever want to be with. And for a long time, it had made sense to him. Don't get him wrong–it will always hurt to yearn for the one person he understands he could never have for himself. However, he relished in the knowledge that at least he had someone he could imagine wanting to spend the rest of his life with. 

He wasn’t broken. Just like Bertholdt had told him. The only thing his pal had been mistaken about was that Reiner had already met the man his friend thought he had yet to get acquainted with. With that conviction in mind, Reiner dove head first into this fling with the same man who had comforted him that fateful night. Regardless of his own doubts, he felt over the moon that his dream was coming true, even if it was more a distorted version of it. That for whatever reason the universe gifted him this, he couldn’t ask for more. 

Reiner ought to be happy. Alas, he couldn’t. 

He had kissed the man he adored so many times he had lost count and, he had him almost in every possible way he had fantasized about. Yet, he still didn’t feel the joy he desperately craved. 

There was still a missing link. Reiner had missed it entirely at first because his head had been completely turned by a handsome, thriving author. 

It had started creeping out on him, steadily, whenever Bertholdt hugged him for a second longer than he was used to. Reiner’s skin prickled whenever his slender fingers roamed over his body, touching it ever so delicately as if he was made from glass. What had made him melt on that first night on his birthday, and the very first one they spent at the motel, filled him with something akin to wariness. It had baffled him, but he tried to ignore it. And when he couldn’t, he attempted to fight it by asking Bertholdt to be rougher with him. It worked for a while, until that one night where he had to just walk away from _him._

He had been unable to fall asleep that night, so he had indulged in a glass too many of wine, hoping it would be enough to dull his racing mind. It had instead given him a sense of clarity he wished he had earlier. 

Bertholdt had been wrong. They were _both_ wrong. 

It had never been about waiting for that specific person to step into his life for him to feel put together. Bertholdt alluded to Annie as being his ‘soulmate’, but after having been around them for over six months, Reiner realized that such a solid relationship couldn’t be explained with some corny make beliefs. He didn’t know much about Annie– it wasn’t like he could read the woman like an open book anyway– but he grasped the reason why both of his friends worked was because they were both open to the idea of actually being with someone. Reiner was genuinely in awe; how despite her stoic nature, Annie allowed herself to be emotionally vulnerable. 

He admired her, and at the same, he envied her. Granted she didn’t exactly have an extended circle of friends–and neither did he, not since college–but there was at least one person whom she could let in, unhindered. Not just because of _who_ they are but, because she could do it. Reiner could tell it was the same with Bertholdt when it came to her. 

Unlike him. 

That's what had always been wrong with him; he always pushed away anyone who would ever get close to him. Bertholdt, the one person he loved more than anyone else on earth, was no exception to his rule. 

A part of him had known all along. But an even more stubborn side of him wanted to blame it on the universe conspiring against him, by making him fall in love with someone he wasn’t meant to be with. It had sounded better in his head that way so, he clung to the rehearsed lie until it buried the uglier truth far in the back of his mind. 

This must’ve been the abandonment issues one of his therapists once referred to. Rejecting Bertholdt the moment the affections he hopelessly yearned for were reciprocated. This damaging habit wasn’t just a direct result of Bertholdt disappearing on him– twice– because he had treated every person who took an interest in him just as callously. As his brain flashed back to all the missed opportunities with other kind, sweet men he could’ve easily wound up in a relationship with– perhaps even married to one at this point of his life– the hideous truth bubbled back to the surface. He knew it was cliché but the words “it’s not you; it’s me,” had never rung any truer to his own ears. 

He didn’t like to dwell on it but he knew it would always circle back to his father. How could anyone his age back then– seven years old– be expected to trust again when they find out directly from their inebriated mother that his father, whom had initially gone out for an errand, was gone, for good. That vile bastard ruined him in ways Reiner could never stand long enough to ruminate on before he’d feel his throat constrict painfully. Since that day, his perspective on life shifted, to the worst. So, there he was, having finally obtained what he had longed for, yet still finding himself unequivocally unsated. 

His crippling anxiety that always made him hyper aware that everything ends eventually made him always skip forward to the last page. Except that this time, Reiner meant to do something about it. 

The first step would be to rip out the last page so he could no longer think about how it ends. 

He would accept what he’s been proffered, and let things run its natural course, however that might be. What he and Bertholdt had now would undeniably be all they could ever be, so what? He didn’t have to mourn its loss when he could still enjoy it to the fullest. 

This wasn’t just a miracle. He could view it as a learning, healing experience for him. Bertholdt wasn’t exactly who he pictured he’d ever attempt to be emotionally intimate with but, Reiner was willing to give it a try still. 

Three weeks later, on a rainy Saturday in New Jersey, he still hadn’t regretted his decision. 

Reiner appreciated the sense of peace that he felt following his resignation to the fate he chose for himself. And he came to actually like being this close with someone, especially one he deeply cared about. Granted, this was all he and Bertholdt will ever have and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change it, but that in itself was actually _fine_. He may have come way before Annie did but, she’s the one Bertholdt wanted in the end. 

Although, he may never really understand what’s in this for Bertholdt. Why would such a kind, honest man risk losing the love of his life for the sake of a silly affair that would soon be forgotten the moment he and his gorgeous partner would exchange their vows?

Reiner frowned. Thinking back on it, Bertholdt no longer brought up his upcoming wedding, even when they weren’t alone. Reiner had so many questions he wanted to ask him, but he never found a delicate way to broach the subject and– 

“You tuned out.” The man resting his temple on his collarbone remarked, jostling him from his inner monologue. 

“I didn’t.” 

“Liar.” 

“Fine. I did.” Reiner sighed, “but I can tell you what happened. Straight, homophobic jock getting dumped by his lesbian friend so she and the bi girl wind up together. We’re just waiting for them to kiss now and roll credits.” He had omitted to mention that he hated this plot, because he was basically living in one. Except his story wouldn’t end with an audience cheering for the gay couple. 

“You completely missed out the point.” Bertholdt groaned, “it’s not about who ends up with who–” 

“It’s a fucking love triangle.” 

“But rather about understanding who they really are. I bet you those girls wouldn’t even date or cross paths later in their life–still wouldn’t make a difference.” 

“Then you made us waste one hour and a half for... what exactly?” 

“The story is more centered around the protagonist and the jock’s friendship. You would’ve known that if you paid attention.” Bertholdt lightly smacked his thigh, “besides, I actually envy these kids.” 

“For getting tangled in a messy romance and having your heart broken because you fell for the wrong person?” 

“For knowing who they are, at such a young age.” Bertholdt sounded grim, “not everyone has the chance to do that.” 

“Because they’re in denial of it. Because society isn’t exactly that accepting of anyone who’s not cishet.” Reiner retorted. And he had a long list of men he had laid with to know what he was talking about. 

“I know but, for some people, it takes them years, sometimes until they’re old and graying to realize who they’ve been all along.” Bertholdt said, somewhat frustrated. Reiner didn’t understand why he was even bothered by it. 

“Yeah, and then it’s too late.” Bertholdt paused the movie then, before looking up at him. 

“Why would it?” He asked, looking genuinely puzzled. 

“Because by then, they would’ve been in a long-committed relationship with a person they’ve never been attracted to. Some of those would be with grandchildren. So much would be at stake then.” He recalled Carson, thirty-nine years old, and three blocks away from where Reiner lived back then in Idaho. How he pulled him away during a festival upon seeing him again, before he begged him to not utter a word about what happened between them, because he had children who went to the same school Reiner went to. “Imagine all the missed opportunities then, to live true to themselves.” 

“My aunt came out as a lesbian when she was fifty, and still stayed with her husband.” Bertholdt countered. 

“Your aunt Linda is one of the best people we’ve both known. And John is a good man, certainly, but neither I nor you can speak about his feelings.” Reiner instinctively reached ahead to brush away bangs that were no longer there (he still needed some time to get accustomed to Bertholdt’s newly short hair, as much as he **loved** it). “Besides, people don’t have sex or build families strictly because they’re in love. Sometimes love doesn’t even factor in those things.” Reiner added, biting back on the part where he thought they were both the perfect example for that. 

He frowned when he took in the way Bertholdt’s expression fell, for a fraction of a second, before he averted his eyes. “I know that.” Bertholdt mumbled, solemn again. He sunk back into his chest before reaching forward and hitting the space bar, resuming their film. 

Reiner couldn’t quell his rising anxiety that something was off but, he resisted the urge to ask. 

\------------- 

Reiner couldn’t understand what was happening to him. He had woken up on a Friday morning at five, with a nagging tingling on his fingers. He went about his day and taught Algebra to thirteen-years olds, doing his best to focus on his own class, in an attempt to distract himself from the sharpening, prickling sensation that had spread to his face by the time it was ten in the morning. 

At first, he had put on the account of Lithium’s rare side effects. He had experienced those once or twice before, albeit significantly milder. But by the time the clock was nearing midday, and judging by how he found one of his meek student’s voice hurting his eardrums, he finally realized what was wrong with him. 

He was having a migraine episode. His suspicions were confirmed when he almost yelped in pain the moment he stepped outside, the weak sunrays filtering through the clouds hurting his eyes. 

Reiner tried to sleep it off, after darkening his room as soon as he set foot there and asking Pieck to turn down the volume from the TV. However, as soon as a throbbing headache settled in his temples, Reiner realized that restful slumber wouldn’t claim his body anytime soon. 

He was in agony, his elderly neighbors from upstairs were having loud, passionate sex and whenever the senior woman screamed _‘harder’_ he wished he could be knocked out into blissful oblivion. Melatonin didn’t remotely help. 

This was, objectively, **hell on earth**. To make it even worse, he had forgotten that he was meant to go to Bertholdt’s (new?) place in an hour. His phone didn’t stop buzzing next to him, the screen lighting up each time he received a new message from his friend and making him crawl on himself. How could he have neglected to switching his phone to silent mode? At the fifth message, Reiner snatched his phone to reply to Bertholdt. He had to, if he wanted a semblance of some quiet. He sighed heavily when he saw how the stream of texts Bertholdt left him in the course of five minutes, were littered with acronyms and typos–a sign that Bertholdt is burnt out and in dire need of human’s company. 

_Can't come, migraine – Reiner_

Reiner locked his phone after remembering to switch it to silent mode. He rummaged through his drawer by his bedside, biting his lower lip at the searing pain on his temples from the noise he made, before he finally located his ear plugs. 

He breathed in relief when everything went quiet for the first time that day. He pulled the blanket up until it covered his head, leaving a small hole to breathe through, before he drifted into sleep. 

It was possibly less than an hour later when Reiner was roused from his nap the moment he felt a hand brush his shoulder. Reiner bolted upright and immediately gasped in pain, raising his hands instinctively to press against his pulsating temples. 

Fuck. It had gotten even worse. 

He looked up when he felt a pair of warm hands cup his face carefully, and frowned when he found Bertholdt sat on the edge of his bed. 

“What are you doing here?” Reiner whispered, confused. He was baffled when Bertholdt moved his lips but no sound came out, before it dawned on him that he still had his earplugs on. 

“Are you alright?” Bertholdt was speaking in a hushed voice yet, he sounded like he was shouting right in his ears. God, he couldn’t wait for this to be over. 

“No, I just want to rip my head off of my body and sleep.” Reiner deadpanned, “why’re you here?”, he just wanted to be alone; he couldn’t babysit Bertholdt when he was having a writer’s block. The taller man knew how bad his migraines could get, as he had witnessed them more than once before. 

“I...” the rest of whatever Bertholdt said was muffled to his ears as Reiner lurched toward the bathroom. As soon as he fell on his knees, he retched down the toilet. He hazily became aware of a hand rubbing his back soothingly. Bertholdt pushed his bangs away from his eyes when he heaved some more, until he tasted bile in his mouth. Had he been in far less pain, he would’ve appreciated the comforting gesture, and felt nostalgic of when Bertholdt used to do this to him, whenever he had his migraines. 

“You’re not running a fever.” Bertholdt murmured. His headache was slightly relieved after he emptied his stomach but, he felt even more exhausted than he had been before. And dehydrated. 

“Sorry for ruining your break from work.” Reiner rasped after a while. Bertholdt merely kissed his cheek. 

“Can you get up?” He whispered. Reiner nodded before he felt himself being carefully hoisted up. He rinsed his mouth with some water, omitting to brush his teeth because he was still in so much pain. Bertholdt practically dragged him back toward his room. Reiner hissed in pain at each movement, as Bertholdt tucked him in his bed. He murmured a weak ‘thank you’ before he closed his eyes. 

He blinked his eyes open when felt the mattress dip behind him. Soon, Bertholdt made himself comfortable next to him. 

“Bertholdt, it’s Friday, and this is your afternoon off. I’m not going to be upset if you leave. You didn’t even have to come all the way here.” Reiner mumbled in argument. He rather felt than saw Bertholdt shrug. 

“I want to be here.” He said simply. He reached forward with his hand, and Reiner shuddered in relief when Bertholdt’s fingertips pressed against his temple. The increasing pressure felt nice on his sensitive skin, so he tried to focus on it, and on the warmth radiating off the man beside him. Reiner’s insides melted, the searing pain in his head purposefully ignored, when Bertholdt pulled him flush against his chest. 

There were so many reasons this could go wrong, one of those being the scenario where Pieck– wherever she was– would find them here. But he didn’t care right now. The steady heartbeat of the man who securely held him in his arms lulled him back to sleep. He barely registered whatever language Bertholdt murmured in his hair before he drifted into a dreamless slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, Bert will look like the top right sketch in this [lovely art!](https://nuclear-tan.tumblr.com/post/171458753379/isayama-robbed-us-so-i-had-to-draw-the-timeskip)  
> Bonus to whoever guesses what movie RB watched :3


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said in my Tumblr post that I'd be posting mid-week, but insomnia is a bitch. So, I had some time to edit before starting my day.  
> CW: referenced drugs use  
> Enjoy xx

**Bertholdt**

Bertholdt watched as Reiner took off his shoes, before he dipped his feet into the pool, “wouldn't we get in trouble?" Bertholdt asked, "It's almost midnight.” He was standing a few feet behind his friend, unsure.

“I just graduated. Plus, I don’t see anyone outside except for us both.” Reiner shrugged before he sat down by the edge. Bertholdt decided to throw caution to the wind.

He proceeded to untie his own boots before he walked toward his friend. Bertholdt hissed when the cold water touched his warm toes. He relaxed eventually when his body adjusted to the cool temperature.

Reiner was unusually silent next to him. Whatever usual was now. He just didn’t remember the boy from their teenage years to be this quiet, almost pensive.

Reiner and Pieck just graduated today, so they decided to throw themselves a party, along with their other classmates, in a hotel nearby campus. They had invited him, via Reiner. Bertholdt had to admit he had been surprised when his oldest friend’s name was displayed on his phone’s screen.

“So, how’ve you been?” Bertholdt decided to break the ice, having grown uncomfortable with the heavy silence that settled between them.

“Good. I mean, it feels good to be done with uni and all.” Reiner replied, staring at his own feet as it sloshed the clear water softly.

“Have you thought about what’s next?” It wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation Reiner was interested in, he could tell. And frankly, Bertholdt wasn't either. Talking about the future stressed him out, especially when his peers had figured it out already when he had graduated a year before them.

“Honestly? I haven’t thought much about it. I have contemplated finishing up my master degree on the long run. In the meantime, I think I’ll take up any job with a good pay. I do need to pay off that student loan after all.”

“You call this not thinking much about it?” Bertholdt snorted, “you’ve practically got the next five years of your life mapped out.”

“I guess.” Reiner sighed, “we’ll see how it’ll work out. Lots of stuff can happen, when you least expect it.”

“What do you mean?” Bertholdt quizzed. He frowned when Reiner shook his head.

“Bertholdt, I don’t want to talk about my plans for the future right now.” Reiner turned to look at him, for the first time since they left his hotel room.

“Um, O-OK.” Bertholdt stuttered, “what do you want to talk about then?”

“You.”

Bertholdt felt thrown off by the seriousness in his voice, and at the subject of their conversation veering toward him.

“Me?” Bertholdt chuckled nervously, “you know what’s been going on with my life. I’ve been working on my first draft for my novel.”

“So you’ve told me, three months ago.”

“That sort of work takes a lot of time; three months are nothing.” Bertholdt averted his gaze, feeling suddenly tense under his friend’s inquisitive gaze.

“That wasn’t was I referring to.” Reiner’s words felt like a knife has been stabbed to his side. He was doing a good job concealing the venom from his tone. 

Bertholdt knew exactly what he was talking about. It was _his_ turn now to fall silent.

“You don’t call, or text, like you used to. Not anymore.” Reiner said, quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Bertholdt clutched at the cold tile underneath him. He stared fixedly as his knuckles went almost white. “It’s just, I’ve been doing my own thing.”

“So did I. I still called you, twice every week. Half of those times, you didn’t pick up.”

“I’m sorry.” Bertholdt reiterated again, before he decided maybe he should defend himself still, “It's just, between my job and writing, I keep losing track of time, a–and, I got distracted–”

“Are you and Annie still together?” Reiner cut his trail of excuses short. Bertholdt turned to look at him, incredulous, at both the abrupt shift of subject, and Reiner’s choice of words.

“What do you mean by ‘still’?”

“Nothing. Just, you know, how they say high school romances don’t last. Like summer and office flings.”

“Annie and I aren’t a fling.” Bertholdt fixed him with a hard stare. He felt confused when Reiner smiled, almost sadly.

“I know.”

“And yes, we’re still together.”

“I do see your Facebook posts.” _Then why’d you ask?_

“Reiner–”

“I’m bored.” Reiner exclaimed before rising back on his feet, “let’s do something fun.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Pieck and the others to bring more alcohol?” Bertholdt asked, tentatively. Frankly, he’d love to get drunk. Maybe it’ll help dissipate whatever tension had grown between them.

“No. Because I’ve got something better.” Reiner smirked at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. In that moment, Bertholdt was reminded of his friend's younger self. Sixteen, adventurous. Reckless, even.

Bertholdt watched as Reiner reached into his jeans’ pockets, before producing a small plastic, zipper lock bag. Bertholdt’s eyes widened in shock when he took in the two blue pills it contained.

“Is that...?”

“Molly.” Reiner said simply.

“Where'd you get it from?” Bertholdt whispered, scanning their surroundings quickly. Not one person to be spotted nearby. 

“From Pieck.” Reiner’s tone was still playful.

“Pieck gave it you?.” 

"Not exactly." 

"I don't think this is a good idea."

“ _Kinda disagree._ ”

Bertholdt blinked his eyes open, momentarily confused by the change of his surroundings. He scrambled into a sitting position, blinking his eyes into focus as he slowly remembered where he was.

He was in his apartment, in Brooklyn, not in the inn in Middletown.

It was just a dream.

Bertholdt glanced to his right. He wasn’t surprised when he saw the other side of his bed empty, and cold to the touch.

He had once thought he had gotten accustomed to waking up alone, almost every day of the week. Even during the weekends, as of lately. But it took him sleeping next to a certain someone once a week, to realize how much he actually hated waking up to an empty bed.

Bertholdt shook his head. He didn’t want to be that kind of guy. Relationships came in different forms, and he wasn’t about to start nitpicking at every aspect of a ten-year-long relationship, less than three months before the wedding. He had had enough time to do that. Yet, despite the hurdles that had paved their way throughout the years, none of them had been a reason to reconsider what he had with Annie.

Plus, he felt it would be disrespectful to both her, _and_ Reiner. His best friend wasn’t there to warm up his bed when his fiance wasn’t home, because she was trying to make her dream come true. He valued what he and Reiner had, probably more than the other did or knew.

Bertholdt swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, before he trudged toward the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He went about his usual morning routine, his body operating on auto-pilot, while he allowed his mind to wander.

After he had completely healed from his injury, things have been going well. Writing-wise, he was making progress with his second book. He had eventually gotten over his writer's block, and had been able to catch up with his schedule. He had until the end of January to submit his first draft. Given that it was already the seventeenth of October, Bertholdt felt relieved when he realized he’ll still have enough time to take a break from writing to focus on the wedding preparations. They had started early–thank god for his forward planning–so that they wouldn’t be one of those couples who’d be going crazy two weeks before the big day. At least, he hoped they would be fine. His mother did comment once on the subject by saying that _“no matter how much you were prepared, every couple is bound to have a crisis.”_

Bertholdt shuddered at thought. He chose to focus on being positive. He, no, _they_ will be OK. At the end of the day, he will be married to Annie, and that’s all that mattered.

Years before, whenever his brain would spiral into panic mode, the thought of Annie and writing would be enough to quell his rising anxiety. Lately, his mind would drift about a certain friend of his that became part of his life again after seven years, to calm his nerves effectively.

Before he knew it, the thought of Reiner and what the other meant for him, brought him an unmistakable feeling of peace, despite their predicament.

He knew anyone would frown at what he did. Hell, he did to, sometimes, when he was alone or in the rarest of times he was with Annie. But all his mental efforts were in vain. He finally came to terms with how much he liked being with Reiner. Their relationship felt like a fresh breath of air. It was familiar, in the sense that they had once been best friends, without them being this intimate. But it was also new, refreshing, and thrilling. He enjoyed it immensely. And for that reason, he didn’t believe he could give it up anytime soon.

The mere thought made him morose. Now more often since the wedding was looming closer with every passing day. However, he desperately clung to a mirage of oblivious contentment. One he refused to snap out of yet.

Plus, Reiner didn’t object in the least. He knew him, and he knew his best friend cared deeply for him. Reiner was the sort of man who’d do anything for his friends. Bertholdt was no exception to his generosity. Sometimes, he would wonder if Reiner was going along with his wishes simply to humor him. That he was engaging in such objectively scandalous affair with him willingly, despite the risk of having to lose as much as Bertholdt did.

The latter thought made his heart soar with affection for the blond, but it also made his guts twist painfully when Bertholdt realized how much he’d actually hate it if Reiner was solely doing for his sake. Did he think Bertholdt simply had an itch to scratch, like all those straight guys he used to hook up with? That Bertholdt considered his best friend an option to get laid when his partner wasn’t around?

He had never understood why Reiner even engaged on those kinds of relationships. Bertholdt struggled to see the point of seeking a stranger–a very much unavailable stranger–when he could have an authentic relationship, built on trust and deep love. Reiner had told him before when they were barely sixteen, how it had never been about sex. “ _It’s everything that leads to it_.” Bertholdt could now attest to the truth behind his words. He and Reiner didn’t do it that often to begin with. Hence why he often felt that the words ‘affair’ or ‘fling’ was inadequate to describe the dynamic of their relationship. What they had was far from being your typical passionate affair. It didn’t take Bertholdt long to figure out Reiner wasn’t often in the mood as much as he was, which had stricken him as odd. Reiner was the one who actually cared about their “numbers”.

But that was back in high school.

So, Reiner apparently changed. Or, maybe he had always been like this, and wasn’t as satyromaniac as he, and basically everyone else had always deemed him to be. Not to be sex-negative, but the blond gave him many reasons to have his own assumptions. It didn't matter anyway, because whenever they were both feeling up for it, Bertholdt could say, with unyielding conviction, that Reiner was definitely into it. Granted, he wasn’t also as kinky as Bertholdt expected, or rather feared him to be–not that it was inherently a bad thing–but Bertholdt knew he always had a good time with him. Reiner would never miss an opportunity to reassure him how much he was making him feel good. His words, and those delightful, content sounds he’d breathe, often made him blush furiously. Even now, when he was alone in his kitchen and sipping on his coffee, he found himself going as red as a tomato, and unable to fight a stupid grin quirking his lips.

They had fun together, that went without saying but, during these last months, Bertholdt realized that their bond had never been about its physical aspect. They enjoyed themselves, but it wasn’t what defined what they had. Bertholdt finally understood what Reiner had meant all those years ago. He saw how much Reiner loved the intimacy that came with this new dynamic of their relationship. It took Bertholdt some time to notice but he realized eventually that Reiner was more into being close, on both a physical and emotional level. One night, while they were basking on the afterglow of a mind-blowing orgasm despite doing it missionary style, Bertholdt joked that he thought of Reiner as ‘vanilla’. He had expected a playful smack on the head or a chuckle from his friend. Perhaps, to even be to chastised for clinging to baseless stereotypes. However, he felt thrown off by Reiner’s muttered apology. When looked up from where he was laying atop his chest, Bertholdt frowned even further at his distraught expression. His gaze was averted to his left, and his cheeks were flushed in mortification. Bertholdt tried to reassure him that he hadn’t meant it in a bad way. That for a fact, he made him feel extraordinary. That he enjoyed every second and everything they did.

Almost a month later, and Bertholdt still wished he could go back in time and take back the words he callously sputtered when his brain was a jumbled mess. It had already taken him so much time to get Reiner to admit what he actually liked, instead of just going with whatever Bertholdt suggested. Despite his sincere apologies and reassurances, Reiner merely pecked his lips, a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes before he politely pushed him off and turned to his side, heralding the end of their discussion. He had known Reiner for over twenty years so, he had long since memorized his quirks, and recognized when the blond would shut him out completely. There would be no reaching him then.

That peculiar behavior of his had intrigued Bertholdt for years. He had lost count of all the times where he had wondered if he there wasn’t a bigger picture Bertholdt was missing. Reiner had opened up to him since day one, when he first approached him on his first day in pre-school, which made Bertholdt quickly warm up to him. And since then, Bertholdt had been as honest with him as he thought the other was. But there were days where he barely recognized the boy–man–he thought he knew like he knew the back of his own hand.

Those times had been scarce as of lately. Bertholdt took great pride in that fact. Yet, those haunting times where talking to Reiner would feel like talking to a wall were always lurking in the distance.

When he was a teen, Bertholdt had attributed it to the trauma from having been abandoned by his father, and grown up with a self-centered, neglecting mother.

And he also knew that Reiner had depressive tendencies. Not that his friend had ever shared with him anything about it, neither willingly nor in the rarest of times Bertholdt felt brave enough to broach the subject of his sometimes abrupt mood swings. But Bertholdt came to recognize the signs of whenever he’d be tormented with such moods.

Whenever Bertholdt felt low or needed a shoulder to cry on, Reiner had been for years the first person he’d rush to, and the other would welcome him with open arms. He had felt the absence of his soothing presence when he moved to the opposite side of the country. Annie had been a huge support throughout those years but, she could never provide much comfort. It had never been her thing and Bertholdt had made peace with it. He could never open up with Annie the way he had always found it easy to do so with Reiner. So, he felt stung knowing best friend never accepted the same treatment from him.

Whenever he knew Reiner was depressed, Bertholdt always felt wary, almost on guard for the unpredictable way the blond would behave. He had learnt that his friends had diverse ways to cope. None of them were good.

Reiner would sometimes just seem out of it, gaze vacant and lost in thought. Other times, he’d be more cheerful than usual, and Bertholdt would’ve been duped, had he not known him for almost all of his life. Later though, in their two years of high school, Reiner would just ignore him. Ignore his texts, his calls, and sometimes even pretend he didn’t know him in the school’s hallways.

It hurt Bertholdt, even though he never confronted his friend about it, not even once. He knew it wasn’t really his fault but, he hated that Reiner couldn’t trust him enough with whatever was bugging him. He had always fancied himself his childhood friend’s pillar of support yet, one day, and seemingly out of nowhere, Reiner decided he could no longer rely on him. Bertholdt never got an explanation for it.

Bertholdt groaned into his hands. He shouldn’t let his mind wander to every mishap in his life. He should be grateful for where they are now. Reiner cares for him, he’s part of his life again, and they’re closer than Bertholdt ever thought they could be after what happened almost four years ago.

The darkness could be looming nearby and Bertholdt wouldn’t care. They’re different now. They're better friends than they’d ever been. This time, Bertholdt would be there for him. If Reiner was to suffer, so would Bertholdt. In the past, in their _good_ past, it had always been the both of them against the world. They either did things together or they didn't. 

Bertholdt being with Annie wouldn’t change a thing. He couldn’t live in a world where Reiner wasn’t in it.

Bertholdt nodded to himself for a good measure before he rose up from his stool on the kitchen island. He dunked the remaining of his cold coffee down the sink’s drain before he proceeded to wash his mug.

As his laptop whirred to life, Bertholdt cracked his knuckles, and braced himself for a day of editing. Just a few hours and then he’ll head back to the hotel and see Reiner.

With that last thought in mind, Bertholdt reached for his reading glasses on the coffee table and clicked open his document. 

******

The sound of the door creaking open jarred Bertholdt from his trance. He rose up from his seat by the couch, before he exited the living room. Bertholdt’s eyebrows shot up his hairline as he took in the sight of Annie by the door, hunched over while taking off her sneakers.

“You’re back...” Bertholdt remarked, unable to conceal the surprise from his voice.

“Coach let me out early.” Annie shrugged, before she proceeded to shrug off her coat.

“Yeah?”

“She thinks I’ve been doing well recently. So, she told me to rest and go have some ' _fun_ '. And don’t ask me what her idea of fun is–I've been scarred to death after hearing her suggestions.”

“I won’t.” Bertholdt chuckled. 

“Besides,” Annie’s features softened, “I missed you. We haven’t been spending much time together lately so...” Annie trailed off, a small smirk tugging at her mouth.

Bertholdt couldn’t really explain what he felt in that moment. When Annie crossed the distance between in a fluid movement, he tried to really think what that heart sinking feeling was. He tried to focus on the feelings of her lips against his, as he tried to quash any irrational feeling of disappointment at this turn of events.

He had almost managed to when her deft fingers strayed to his shirt, before she swiftly started unbuttoning it.

Bertholdt stared at the ceiling whilst lying on his bed. Annie was tucked under the blanket next to him, her breathing having long since evened out as she drifted into sleep.

It had hit him then that he had to text Reiner and cancel their plans for the day.

He thumbed lazily at his phone before he hit ‘send’. He waited for a beat, expecting a text in return. When Reiner failed to, Bertholdt set back his phone on the bedside table.

He didn’t have a doubt in his heart that Reiner would be understanding. However, he still wanted to make it up to him some other time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sappy romantic Reiner with low libido is my headcanon, if it wasn't already obvious :3


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday xx

**Reiner**

The first time he noticed something was off was when he had been woken up at three in the morning by a flood of twenty texts from his mother. Reiner’s heart started thundering in his chest instinctively, fearing that something terrible must’ve happened to her. Recalling back what happened with Pieck’s dad, his stomach turned to lead picturing the worst, even though she only had a slightly higher than normal blood pressure, nothing out of the regular for someone her age as her doctor had once told her. 

Still, anything could’ve happened and he was in no mindset to think rationally; a heart attack, a stroke. _Fuck_ , maybe she tripped on the stairs and hit her head, and someone must’ve found her– 

Without even checking the content of the texts that he was still getting, he tossed his phone on the mattress as if burnt. He clambered off the bed, nearly falling face first on the floor when he forgot about the twisted blanket around his feet, before trudging toward the bathroom. He was painfully aware that he was hyperventilating, and he refrained from looking at his own reflection in the mirror, lest he spiraled into a vicious cycle of panic. He turned on the faucet, and closed his eyes, the ice-cold water running in a thin stream on his wrists alleviating a smidge of his panic. 

He didn’t know how much longer he stood there, but he didn’t move from his spot until he felt his heart rate slow back to normal. Exhaustion suddenly caught up on him after the rush of adrenaline slowly vanished from his bloodstream. He retreated back to his bedroom on heavy feet, still feeling apprehensive about stepping inside and facing whatever would be displayed on that small screen. He counted backwards from ten before he forced himself to walk past the threshold of his room. He took a deep breath before he unlocked his phone. 

He hadn’t found exactly any news he feared, but before he could feel relief wash over him, he was even more confused. On the course of fifteen minutes minutes, his mother deemed three in the morning an appropriate hour to state her strong opinions about her _Judge Judy’s_ latest season binge watch. In his hazy state of mind, Reiner had to read his mom’s texts over and over again, as he couldn’t make sense of her words. She talked about everything and nothing at the same time, Reiner growing more confused by the second as to what she was going on about. However, an eerie sense of déja-vu creeped on him the longer he tried to decipher what his mother wanted from him at this deadly hour. Reiner felt his heart sink when he realized what was actually going on with his mother. 

Just because her life wasn’t in immediate, vital danger, didn’t mean he could shrug this off and go back to bed undisturbed. In fact, he couldn’t even rule out the probability that she wasn’t in any actual trouble. Best case scenario would actually be that she was just up at three in the morning, in her own house, unable to sleep and thumbing furiously at her phone. His thumb hovered over her contact ID, torn between the need to check on her and his own wariness about what he might learn, or what would rather _confirm_ his suspicions. His worry for her wellbeing triumphed eventually so he tapped at her name before bringing the electronic device to his ear with a trembling hand. It kept on ringing for a while, so he _knew_ his mother was deliberately not picking up. After three more attempts, it went straight to voicemail. It took him herculean, mental efforts not to bash his phone against the wall.

It was three in the morning and his mother lived alone, so he couldn’t disturb any of her neighbors in the middle of the night and ask them to check on her. He set his phone back on the nightstand before plopping down heavily on the mattress. Reiner ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Any exhaustion he had felt earlier dissipated from his body as his brain set into overdrive. 

Now that his brain was no longer foggy from sleep, he could easily piece the puzzle together. Not that this has been a first occurrence anyway–he's been witness to his mother’s manic episodes quite often when he still lived under her roof. Back then, she used to go on and off her medication almost regularly. Whenever he’d find out, he’d plead with her to just start taking them again, for her own sake if she couldn’t do for his. Yes, he understood it made her feel like she walking on a fucking tight rope. Yes, he can relate with how constantly exhausted and lethargic he’d feel, making him miss out on so much time he could’ve spent hanging out with friends or be more focused for his football practice. But he had learnt the hard way that there was no other way for people like them, if they at least wanted to keep themselves out of harm’s way. They both knew all about the different kinds of trouble they could get themselves into during one of their episodes. 

When he moved to New York, his mother started accepting her own disorder, thus becoming more compliant with her doctor’s recommendations. Reiner didn’t like to dwell much on the reasons for such a positive, almost unpredictable change. He didn’t want to entertain the possibility that his mother started getting better after _he_ left. Apart from the fact that it would just destroy him to realize he had been subconsciously an unwanted presence in her life, he wasn’t willing to admit either that keeping his distances from her for some years had improved his mental health as well. At first. His following deterioration was the result of many other factors he just needn’t ponder about right now. 

Fuck. 

He could feel the stirring of another panic attack as he felt his ribcage constrict around his lungs. Despite it being the last week of October, Reiner rushed to open his window and stuck his face outside, breathing a sigh in relief at the chilling air hitting his face. 

For the time being, he will focus on breathing. He needed to calm down so he could think rationally. In a few minutes, he’ll have to concoct a plan as soon as possible so his mother’s health doesn’t deteriorate any further. He needed to find a way to reach her. Maybe he’ll fly back home again to take care of her. He couldn’t afford a paid leave as a substitute teacher and he didn’t know how much time he’d need to be away. But if push comes to shove, he’ll have to quit his job and find another. Maybe he'll beg Carl to give him his job back, as much as he’d loathe the idea of working at the bar again. 

All he knew was that he couldn’t just leave her on her own. His mother didn’t exactly vocalize it but, he knew this was her silent plea for help. He'll be there before she’d know it. 

However, 3 am was not the time to be doing anything. 

He reached into his drawer and rummaged through it, sighing in relief when he found his prescribed sleep aid. It's been a while since he’s taken any but, these were no regular circumstances. It would help shut down his racing mind and allow him to rest a bit, before he could give the urgent matter more thought. 

\----------- 

By the time it was ten in the morning, Reiner had texted his mother over forty times and left her ten voicemails asking about her whereabouts and whether or not she was in trouble. Karina didn’t humor him with a single reply, adamantly refusing to get in contact with him. Calling her neighbor from next door led nowhere, as he was away from the country. Frank Finger was confounded at his unexpected call, the older man immediately fearing something dreadful had happened to his daughter. After Reiner reassured him that Pieck was in very good health, his initial panic gave way to perplexity as to why would the blond call _him_ to ask about his own mother’s whereabouts. Reiner felt his stomach sink in his boots when Frank recounted his last encounter with her. “She seemed in a very good mood. She was all laughter and jokes. Was talking about going for a hike to the Bald Mountain in the dead of the night!” The older man’s laughter soon died when Reiner urgently demanded he tells him when this exactly had happened. And whether or not someone had seen her since then. When he failed to respond, Reiner curtly thanked him for his help, politely declining to expand on the reason behind his urgent call. He phoned her boss next, whom updated him on his mom’s resignation over a week ago. Reiner didn’t miss the bewilderment in his tone at his mother’s impulsive, and out of the blue decision, as she had been working as a geriatric nurse for the last eight years without missing a single day. Her coworkers loved her, and as far as her boss was concerned, she wasn’t displeased with her pay or the working conditions. 

By the end of the day Reiner felt like he was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. Pieck soon picked up on his distress, and didn’t relent with her questioning until he caved and confessed what he was certain was happening. 

“Uh, OK That’s bad, right?” Pieck stuttered. Reiner rarely saw her look this nervous. But then again, she knew firsthand what being in his shoes felt like. 

Reiner swallowed thickly–he couldn’t afford to think about _that_ now. 

“I have no idea.” He said instead, absentmindedly scrolling down the texts she failed to respond, “I can’t even reach her.” Reiner locked his phone before setting it back on the coffee table. He lowered his face into his palms before groaning. He felt at a loss as to what his next step should be. His mother could be missing at this point so, maybe he should notify the police? Should he check with the area’s hospitals? 

He felt his head spin just as his brain conjured up every possible, worst-case scenario. Pieck’s hand rubbing soothingly at his back started gyrating on his nerves, and he nearly shied away from her touch. 

Just when he almost made up his mind about sending a sick note to his school’s administration before looking up the nearest flight to Idaho, his phone buzzed. He didn’t think he had ever reached for it faster than he did now. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest as he took in the name displayed on his screen. 

“It’s mom–oh my god, she’s calling me back!” Reiner faintly registered Pieck’s voice pressing him to just pick up before he eventually swiped the green icon upward, “mom? Where are you? Are you OK?” 

“Reiner?” An unfamiliar, **male** voice asked in return, “Reiner Braun, Karina’s son?” He felt cold sweat run down his back. Who was this man? The Police? The hospital? 

“Yes? Who’re you? I–I–this is Karina’s number, right? Can you put her back on?” He sputtered, his attempts to sound levelheaded going out of the window. 

“This is Jim. I’m, uh...well, I’m Karina’s... boyfriend.” The man cleared his throat awkwardly when Reiner fell silent, “I–I uh, I wish we were introduced under different circumstances but... we–we still can, I mean, if you want–”   
“Can you put Karina back on? Where is she? Why isn’t _she_ answering her own phone.” Reiner was faintly aware of Pieck’s hand weaving through his own, but even such comforting gesture couldn’t mitigate a smidgen of his fright. What did he mean by _different circumstances_? 

Who was he kidding? Reiner actually knew where this was going. 

“I’m sorry, son. Karina is–well, she’s slightly under the weather. I, um... she–she asked me to take her to the hospital–” 

“Just. Put her back on, please.” It was taking him strenuous efforts to not snap at the man on the other side of the line. 

“I know you’re scared but, she’s alright now. The doctors gave her drugs which put her to sleep. I don’t want to wake her up.” 

Reiner had a load more questions he needed answers to, along with the temptation to fly back home so he could see her personally, yet, he still felt relieved. It baffled him that she’d _request_ being admitted to the hospital, since that, _well_ , never happened before. He bit the inside of his cheeks in a bid to keep himself from wondering how bad it must’ve gotten actually.

He needed to look at the bright side of the things. His mother was safe. She was tended to by experts and she will be alright eventually. Reiner lowered the device from his ear before walking on wobbly knees towards the couch. Pieck followed him on his heels then she sat down carefully next to him, cradling his hand gently in her smaller ones. This time, Reiner was grateful for her presence. 

“So? Is she OK?” Pieck asked, an unmistakable apprehensiveness in her tone. 

“She’s fine.” Reiner exhaled heavily, “she **will** be fine. Um, she’s in the hospital, resting now. She actually _asked_ to be there.” 

“And that’s a good thing, right? This is good news, yeah?” Pieck wanted to know. 

“Yeah.” Reiner breathed. He still felt shaken. He needed some time process what happened and– 

“Mom has a boyfriend.” He blurted. 

“Oh, um, good for her.” Pieck sounded thrown-off by his observation. He didn’t blame her–this wasn’t an urgent matter he ought to talk about, “I assumed you were on the phone with her doctor, since you kept asking to talk to her.” 

“So did I.” Reiner trailed off. He felt Pieck squeeze his hand. 

“I’m glad she’s OK. You don’t have to worry now, and maybe you’ll get to talk to her when she wakes up.” 

“You're right.” Reiner felt confounded by the way he was feeling right now. Without a shred of a doubt, he was immensely relieved that his mother will soon get better. But he couldn’t shake off the odd way his heart clenched as he replayed the earlier conversation in his head. 

A beat of silence, during which he feared Pieck would eventually pick up on what was going on inside his head, and Reiner couldn’t let that happen. Was there even any proper, empathetic way to say that instead of just feeling elated that his only family was safe and would be eventually on her feet, he was jealous that she seemed to have got her life together, before he did? 

Of course, there wasn’t. Unless he concurred his statement with how much of an envious, ungrateful, piece of shit of a son he was. 

Before giving the opportunity for Pieck to expose him as the egotistical, self-centered bastard he should’ve realized he had always been, he decided he needed out. Now. 

“Reiner?” Pieck asked when he stood up abruptly before striding toward his bedroom. 

“I’m fine. I just need to rest for a bit. I haven’t slept much yesterday.” Reiner faked a yawn. Pieck arched a skeptical eyebrow in response. 

“OK.” Pieck said simply, “should I wake you up later or you’ll be fine getting up on time?” 

“On time for what?” 

“We’re meeting at the bar with Pock, Bertholdt and Annie?” 

“On Thursday?” Reiner scoffed, feeling his guts twist uncomfortably. Dear god, he couldn’t see Bertholdt and Annie today being a... couple. Not with the outraging thoughts that were racing through his mind. He needn't be given more fuel to feed the burning fire in his chest.

“Pock suggested this, so any consequences of any inevitable over-indulgence of alcohol are on him, since you and I both don’t have classes tomorrow.” Pieck shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk on her lips. “Besides, you’re the one who said Annie deserved to loosen up a little since the Ice-skating National tournament starts on Monday.” 

“Right.” Reiner sighed. That was one of the reasons he had agreed to being in the same place with both Bertholdt _and_ Annie, especially when they could be openly affectionate, as rare as that usually was. Other reasons included guilt for betraying a friend of his yet still adamantly refusing to amend it, and a need to refute any lingering suspicions Pieck or Porco might ever entertain about his friendship with Bertholdt (he knew they must’ve thought about it since they were prone to gossip about his love life behind his back without a hint of remorse or shame). 

“Fine. If I don’t wake up by my own then you know what to do.” 

“Duly noted.” Pieck grinned. Reiner forced a smile on his face to assuage any of her worries about him. 

When Reiner retreated to the safety of his bedroom, he suddenly felt exhausted. Perhaps he ought to nap a couple of hours after all. It'll at least help ease his mind off and stop ruminating on the dooming and repugnant conclusion he reached minutes ago about his own person. 

He chugged the remaining of his water bottle by the bedside along with a sleeping pill before crawling underneath his blanket. 

His last lucid thought before he drifted into slumber was that he had another reason to force himself and be in the presence of the man he yearned for, happy and in love with another woman. He had to be punished for his sin; his envy of his mother finding happiness before him. He couldn’t think of a fairer judgment than that. 

\----------- 

Frankly, Reiner was grateful Bertholdt and Annie weren’t lovey-dovey (he could never picture them that way anyway, unless they were in the privacy of their own home and away from prying eyes) or this evening would’ve wound up an even excruciating trial than he had predicted it to be. 

He was painfully aware that he was quieter than usual, and he could see Bertholdt twitching in his seat and chancing furtive glances toward him every chance he got. Reiner didn’t dare lock gaze with him, lest he burst into tears and embarrass himself in front of, well, _everyone_. Reiner wondered if he was having a depressive episode, and if these were the warranting signs of many bleak days of torment to come. 

Instead, he just sipped at his beer, while nodding to whatever anecdote from work Porco was talking about. Pieck as usual didn’t miss any chance to poke fun at their friend, and at some point, Bertholdt and even Annie joined in. A small part of him was relieved to see her less tense and thoroughly enjoying herself. It was the least he could do to make it up to her. Reiner decided he'd be the one to cut Porco some slack, half for empathy's sake, half for not caring about socializing tonight. He quietly nursed his own beer, the earlier phone call he had had with his mother’s boyfriend and the train of self-loathing thoughts that followed it were making him wish he had ordered a stronger drink to numb his racing brain. Perhaps he should just do that. 

“Six feet tall, blond and athletic guy at three o’clock.” Porco’s voice tore him out of his daydreaming. 

“What?” Reiner said, puzzled. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me, and look, **subtly** , at three o’clock. Guy by the window drinking on his own.” Porco explained impatiently. Reiner turned on cue to see Porco’s intonation of what a good-looking man, who could also be his type, is, and sure enough– 

“He is _hot_.” Reiner confirmed, unable to conceal the surprise from his voice. Usually Pieck was in charge of “picking up” guys for him, as she had known him for a longer time, and had a better eye for it. Seriously, he sometimes wondered if she had some mystical powers that allow her to see through the souls of men. 

Actually, she didn’t. She had quite the long list of failed relationships to refute his theory. 

“You call those chicken legs 'muscular'?” Annie huffed, “you guys should meet some real athletes. I mean, you will, on Monday.” When all eyes were on her, Annie cleared her throat awkwardly, “but sure, honk away my friend.” She raised her glass in a toast. Reiner rolled his eyes at her comment, not finding it in his heart to feel bad for her when no one clinked their glass to hers before she lowered it down, evidently embarrassed. 

“Right, wish me luck then.” Reiner said before downing the rest of his beer. He wasn’t remotely tipsy so he had zero chances of screwing up. 

Perhaps this is what he needs right now. A distraction from the heaviness that threatened to suffocate him. Plus, who knows? Maybe this’ll be the time he could catch up to Bertholdt and his mother. 

That's what he wanted in the end, didn’t it? He didn’t deserve it, not with how he still couldn’t find it in himself to be content for those who found happiness before him. But he was just as revolting as he knew himself to be. If he saw a chance to get what he wanted, he’d take it. 

With that last determination in mind, Reiner stood up and fixed his clothes. 

“You sure you don’t need your own wingman for this?” Porco quired, a smug smirk tugging at his mouth, “I mean, I’ve got a few plays up my sleeves but–” 

“Yeah, no offense Porco but I’m never relying on your help again.” 

“Suit yourself.” Porco scoffed, visibly wounded. Pieck didn’t offer her help either, surprisingly quiet herself as she observed the scene unfolding in front of her. When he looked at her, she smiled, giving him a thumbs-up in approval and he knew it was his cue to approach the handsome man on the opposite side of the bar. 

He was just about to do so before Bertholdt’s voice halted him in his steps. 

“Wait, you’re serious?” He exclaimed, incredulous, “that’s it? He says ‘dude by three o’clock’ and you’d just, go for it?" He scoffed, "he’s a stranger!” 

“I’m going to buy him a drink, not fuck him on that table.” Reiner stated simply, voice dangerously low. 

At that Bertholdt, and the rest of the table fell silent and Reiner cringed at Bertholdt’s talent to make everything awkward when he doesn’t use his brain first before talking. 

“Never mind. I’m ducking out.” Reiner shrugged on his jacket before grabbing his phone. “Put it on my tab.” 

“Reiner–” 

The rest of whatever Bertholdt said was swallowed by the commotion from the patrons’ around them. Reiner didn’t even spare a glance to the man he had wanted to approach minutes ago, and it made him realize that he had just been going with the flow of things. His coping mechanism to forget about his issues.

Frankly, as much as he had been rightfully pissed at Bertholdt’s judgmental remark, he was grateful for the other unknowingly giving him a valid reason to bail. He had been a bore of a company, and no one would be delighted to hear about his inner turmoil slash existential crisis. Their night was already ruin thanks to his storming off. 

Still, he just needed to be left alone. By that, he was doing everyone a favor. They just have yet to realize it. 

When Reiner unlocked the door to his apartment, he threw the keys haphazardly before striding toward the living room and collapsing on the couch. 

He didn’t want to think about it. He wished he just could stop his brain from working for at least a night. Put his galloping thought on hold so he could have a normal evening where he celebrates that his mother was in good hands, having finally someone by her side who accepted her for who she is and didn’t just pack his things and leave the moment he learnt of how ugly things could get. 

He also wanted to be happy for himself; he finally learnt how to let his guard down and open up to the idea of being someone. An eventuality that had once been preposterous to even entertain. And he got to experience a semblance of intimacy and affection with the best man he had ever known in his life. 

However, his thoughts would keep circling back to every time he saw _them_ together, content, blissful to have someone who had their back from now until the end of times. He would've thought jealousy to be a normal feeling in response to seeing the man he loved swiped off his feet by someone else. But when those hideous feelings extended to everyone he cared about–even Pieck and Porco when they will inevitably end up together–Reiner loathed himself, and determined he was a lost cause. 

How could he possibly think he’d deserve to be loved when he couldn’t tolerate others to be happy when he couldn’t a smidge of it for himself? Any man would be better off without him. 

Bertholdt included.

God, he couldn’t wait for his wedding to come so their affair would come to an end. Right now, Reiner wouldn’t even bat an eyelid if Bertholdt ended things with a mere text. He'd even thank him that he made it quicker and easier for him. The less he had to cling to, the better it was. 

Reiner exhaled heavily. A familiar sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach and he felt a lump forming in his throat. He had tried to bottle everything up, plastering a brave face in front of everyone when he just felt like tearing at his own skin.

But right now, no one was around to see him break. 

As soon as the realization hit him, a sob quaked his body, and his chin wobbled when he tasted the salt of his tears as it streamed freely down his cheeks. Before he could crawl into himself and bail his eyes out, he heard the front door creak open. Reiner hastily swiped at his tears with the hem of his sleeves, cursing the fact that he couldn't afford rent on his own so he'd have the solitude he craved. He braced himself for whatever query he’d have to sit through from Pieck, and pondered what was the best way to fool her into believing she had nothing to worry about. However, when he looked up from his spot, his eyes went wide as he took in Bertholdt’s hunched posture, as he fidgeted with his fingernails in a nervous gesture. 

“What are you doing here?” Reiner blurted. Fuck, he probably still looked like he had been crying. What was worse than Pieck nagging at him to spill his beans? Bertholdt. He really, really didn’t want to deal with him right now. 

“You, uh, you left the door unlocked.” When Reiner shook his head in a quizzical manner, Bertholdt cleared his throat before explaining himself, “I, um, I wanted to check on you and–” 

“I’m fine.” Reiner said quickly, “you can go back to the others. Jesus, Bertholdt, why would follow me here? Even Annie will get suspicious.” 

“Of what? Me wanting to apologize for acting like a dickwad to you?” Bertholdt said dryly.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not mad at you.” Reiner just wanted him to leave. They can have this talk another time. 

“I do.” Bertholdt insisted, voice uncharacteristically measured, but still lowered his gaze to the floor, as if ashamed. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was judgmental and a prig. It was none of my business to begin with.” Bertholdt muttered the last part. Reiner would’ve pondered on that last detail, had he not been growing impatient for not being allowed the solace of his own company to break down without with any hindrance. 

“Apology accepted.” Reiner sighed, “I didn’t leave because of what you said. Truthfully, I was mad, for a second, but not anymore. You don’t have anything to be worried about.” 

“Then why’d you leave?” Bertholdt wanted to know. 

“Because I’m exhausted and I haven’t slept well yesterday.” Reiner replied, trying to sound as genuine as possible. “Tell Annie I’m sorry, OK? I shouldn’t have ruined her night with me losing my temper like that.” _Just take the fucking hint, and leave_

“Reiner?” Bertholdt asked, as if he hadn't heard a word Reiner had said, “are you OK?” 

There was nothing Reiner hated on planet earth than to be asked that question. How was one even supposed to answer to that, when he deosn’t recall a single moment where he believed everything would work out before things spiraled out of control again. 

If he said yes, he’d be blatantly lying, especially when he knew his eyes were rimmed red. If he said no, then he didn’t know what he could say next, or what Bertholdt could say without him bursting into hysterical tears. 

He didn’t want Bertholdt to pity him. 

So, he opted for silence, at a loss for an answer. But silence was answer enough. When the realization dawned on him, Reiner's face crumbled before he broke down into uncontrollable sobs, vaguely aware of Bertholdt shuffling to his side. The other sat beside him motionless at first, unsure of how to proceed, as if wary of some personal space he couldn’t evade. 

Reiner had been desperately wishing to be alone, but right now, he wanted to be held. And as if reading his mind, Bertholdt finally gathered him in his arms, Reiner collapsing into the warm embrace almost instinctively. 

Reiner wailed, voice muffled against Bertholdt's chest, fisting his shirt as he felt anger, frustration, sadness, remorse, and so many other emotions he couldn’t fathom suffocate him.

“No. No, I’m not OK. I’m _never_ going to be OK.” 

Bertholdt only pulled him tighter against him, rubbing soothing circles to his back. 

“I’m sorry you’re so sad.” Bertholdt whispered into his hair. Reiner wanted to ask why would he be sorry. No one had ever told him that, whether or not they had known about his struggles.

Does one even apologize to someone who's feeling depressed, hopeless even? 

“I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.” 

The words were right on the tip of his tongue, but all Reiner could do was weep as if he was a child. 

_There's nothing you could do, because it will never, ever change. I was born like this, fated for a life of misery and no one could ever do anything about it. Not even you._

Reiner couldn't voice any of his latter thoughts. He absentmindedly thought that perhaps the only solace he will ever have was to admit his real feelings to at least one person, without them lecturing him about how he should feel. He didn't want Bertholdt, or anyone else, to fix his life, but he felt grateful that one person at least listened to him, and held him when he needed someone to anchor him to this world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be unfortunately putting this story on hold for the time being until the second half of December, as I'm now busier than ever with studying and writing a fic demands a lot of time I could no longer afford. Thanks to everyone who read this story, and supported me. Your feedback always encouraged meto do more and I really loathe the idea of leaving you hanging. I chose this chapter to avoid ending on a major cliffhanger but, don't worry, I am going to finish writing this story when I'll be back. I have got the rest of the story mapped out so no, I'm not abandoning this work.  
> Thanks again for reading and commenting, I really had fun sharing this story with you. See you soon xx


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!

**Pieck**

“Aren’t we kind of too old for Halloween?” Porco said from his spot by the dining table. He was carving the two or three pumpkins she didn’t get to do, busy as she had been with the last-minute baking of sweets and snacks. Usually, Reiner helped her with the preparations for their annual Halloween party but, he’s been recently MIA. As in like, especially today–he knew they were hosting the party at their apartment yet, it’s four in the afternoon and there was no sign of him. Not even a text sent her way to inform her of the reason behind his tardiness. And she knew he wasn’t late because of school because he only had classes in the morning. 

“Earth to Pieck?” Porco’s voice jarred her from her thoughts. 

“No one’s ever too old for Halloween.” Pieck retorted, “when did you get so lame, Pock?” she added, a bit too cattily perhaps. 

“Just thinking we could have better use of a Saturday evening?” 

“Like what? Drinking at the same bar we’ve been drinking at for the last three years?” 

“Tell me how getting wasted in your own living room with a bunch of people you haven’t talked to in years, thrashing your apartment and not helping you clean up in the morning, is better than drinking at a bar or a say, a club?” 

“We’re too old for clubbing.” Pieck retaliated almost instinctively. They've had this conversation so many times already. 

“Who am I kidding? This isn’t about wearing costumes or getting drunk with a bunch of almost strangers. This is a nicely embellished setting for an intervention. For you know who, about seeing or rather getting involved with what’s his face.” 

“Pock–” Pieck started warningly. 

“I mean, I say ‘what’s his face’ but we both know who we’re talking about.” Porco said smugly, “which means you owe me twenty bucks, Miss.” 

_"He_ hasn’t admitted to it yet, so you haven’t won the bet.” Pieck reminded him, her words not convincing enough to her own ears. 

“I say I’ve cracked the case since day one but sure, you keep on believing the guy Reiner seeing is not a certain friend of ours, who’s getting married to another friend of ours, in less than two months.” 

“Dear god, you are not getting anywhere near Reiner today. You say that and this party will be a disaster, and I’m not suffering public humiliation in front of my former college classmates.” 

“Yeah, I know. Something along the lines of ‘you’re blunt and oblivious’. I’m still trying not to take offense to that by the way.” 

“The fact that you’re calling it _"an intervention"_ kind of proves my point, you know?” Pieck said snidely, and was annoyed when Porco was nonplussed by the venom in her tone. 

“I called it an intervention, quoting marks, just for the sake of technicalities.” Porco smirked as he admired his handiwork, “you know the facts already, and you know that whatever you're planning to tell him won’t lead anywhere.” 

“There are no facts. There are only your speculations.” Pieck reminded him as she shoved the tray of cookies into the oven. Hopefully, she wouldn’t burn this batch too. 

“My speculations?” Porco scoffed, “come on, Pieck. You can no longer give them the benefit of the doubt because it’s blatantly obvious; they are having an affair.” 

_“Wild_ speculations,” Pieck corrected. She strode toward the living room before seating herself beside Porco, in case he needed a helping hand with the pumpkins. She slumped back in her chair when Porco motioned to her that he would manage. 

“Then how do you explain last Thursday night at the bar?” 

“The part where Bertholdt acted like a prick and insulted Reiner?” Pieck tried to come across as oblivious as to what Porco was referring to. 

“More like the part where Bertholdt was jealous that Reiner was going to hit on another guy. The pedantic speech was just a facade. Bertholdt running after him only proves my theory. And thus, my experiment has been a success.” 

“I knew it,” Pieck punched Porco’s shoulder with a bit more force than she intended to. 

“Ow!” Porco rubbed at the sore spot, but Pieck couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry. 

“I knew you did it on purpose! What the hell were you thinking?” 

“Frankly? About the twenty bucks you owe me.” 

“Jesus, Pock! That’s no kidding matter! Imagine Reiner coming to learn you’re-” 

“ _we’re-_ ” 

“ _-_ betting on his personal life, one that you know will be detrimental to his mental wellbeing!” Pieck was just short of shouting. Why was Porco acting this nonchalant about the matter when a month ago he was worried sick about what Reiner was probably getting himself into? To reduce the issue to a bet he was desperate to win was so appallingly uncharacteristic of him. 

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Porco flung his hands in the air, before remembering he was still clutching the knife. He set it aside on the table for safety. “You don’t want me to ever talk to Reiner about this. You also want to hold an intervention for him after getting him drunk enough, but refuse to admit what’s practically written across his forehead.” 

“I just don’t want to accuse both friends of mine of betraying another friend of my mine without one of the parties even admitting it. Imagine we’re wrong about this. Imagine what Reiner will say then.” 

“I can’t because Reiner won’t admit a thing. He'll manipulate you again into thinking he’s got it under control and that you’ve got nothing to worry about because he’ll be fine, he’s just having fun, even though it’s with the guy he’s been helplessly in love with for over ten years.” 

“He might spill the truth actually because we both know him; he talks, a lot, after drinking certain types of alcoholic beverages. I’ve already made up a list of the ones that’ll make him appropriately honest.” 

“Aww, look at you! And you called me out for betting on who Reiner is banging.” 

“Jesus, it’s twenty bucks for crying out loud!” 

“It’s a **bet**.” Porco insisted, “no one **ever** backs off from a bet! And shall I remind you that you’re the one who suggested it in the first place? Why? Because me cracking the case with one mere observation when you’ve been in their company many times here and not noticing anything pissed you off so much!” 

Well, that was true. Since her conversation with Porco where he ‘enlightened’ her about his epiphany, Pieck tried to pay close attention to her roommate and his love interest whenever she was in their company. She didn’t know whether she should be disappointed or relieved at the lack of evidence that her friends had engaged in some scandalous affair that would either ruin Bertholdt’s relationship and alienate most of his friends and family, or end up with Reiner heartbroken. They gave away nothing–they behaved their usual normal; just close buddies. And it frustrated her to no end because she hated being left in the dark. 

“OK. Fine, it was my idea." Pieck crossed her arms in front of her chest, "but you took it a little bit too far by doing what you did on Thursday night.” 

“Why? It wasn’t like Annie was even intrigued by it, even though Bertholdt chased after Reiner and didn’t go back until like, a while.” Porco shrugged, before he knitted his brows, “wait, do you think Annie knows and gave them the free pass?” 

“What?” 

“Think about it; Bertholdt and Annie have been in a relationship for a really long time. It wouldn’t be that far-fetched to think they’ve gotten so comfortable and ventured into open relationships territories.” 

“Right before her wedding?” This was the most ridiculous theory of Porco’s. She dreaded to think what might come up next. 

“So what?” Porco shrugged, “I mean, with Annie busy with her practice and her job, they probably barely see each other at home.” 

“So, are you suggesting Annie suggested this affair so her soon-to-be husband should have a companion to warm his bed just so he wouldn’t have to play with himself?” 

“Why not? Annie does strike me as that kind of cool girl.” 

“Define ‘cool girl.’” Pieck glared at him but Porco merely rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t get all Amy Dunne on me.” 

“Look, bottom line, you are getting ahead of yourself.” Pieck concurred as she reached for one of the carved pumpkins, silently in awe of Porco’s neat work. 

“Hm. I think you’re the one who’s getting ahead of herself.” Porco leaned back in his own seat, stretching his arms above his head. 

“Excuse me?” Pieck glared at him again. 

“Don’t you smell something burning from the kitchen?” Pieck didn’t even deign him with a response before she flew from her seat and skipped toward the kitchen. And sure enough, her third batch of cookies was burnt. She didn’t really feel like trying again–any confidence she might have had about her culinary skills was grounded to dust along with these charcoal-like cookies. 

“This is all Reiner’s fault.” Pieck muttered as she trudged back toward the living room. This party was ruined prematurely and she had half a mind to call everyone and cancel. “Where is he anyway?” 

“Probably boinking _‘Bertl’._ ” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“ _Ew_.” Pieck grimaced. 

“Yeah, that’s how you sound most of the time with your double entendre about your friends’ sex life. So, have a taste of your own medicine.” 

\------------- 

As far as Pieck was concerned–and considering she was the host of the Halloween party this year–it hasn’t been a complete disaster. So far, at least. She was glad they had taken the party to the rooftop, unlike two years ago, as their place had ended up an utter mess. It had been left to her and Reiner to clean up at six in the following morning, while _Porco_ was passed out on their couch. 

Speaking of the pig in question, he was sulking in his corner when she told him that whatever costume he thought original was no different than his school jock-self, wearing a letterman jacket and a pig mask. She was positive he hadn't put any efforts whatsoever to make his, compared to her Sabrina's Witch Masquerade dress, the one she had had made from scratch by a very talented friend of hers. She knew it was just a silly costume but she did feel like the star of the night. She did get appraised for the sophistication of her costume, and Pieck made a mental note to thank her friend again for her well-paid off endeavors. 

As for Reiner, _well_. He had worn his old Black Sails’ Billy Bones's costume from last year. When confronted about his nonchalance about the evening’s gimmicks he had once been very enthusiastic about, he shrugged and mirrored Porco’s words to her earlier in the day. 

_“We’re too old for Halloween, Pieck.”_

“Really?” Pieck arched an eyebrow, mentally noting that it was hard to perceive her expression behind her eyes' mask. “Because I remember, in your own words that _‘Halloween is the night to score’.”_ She retorted as she slid off her golden mask. 

“I’ve said all sorts of dumb things when I was in college.” 

“Pretty sure you said that was last year.” Pieck smirked when Reiner failed to come up with a witty answer. 

“Does it matter? I mean, look around. There isn’t a single seven among these guys you invited.” Reiner gestured vaguely to their surroundings, “I mean, that guy, uh, what’s his name again?” 

“Bill? Your roommate back in college?” 

“Mhm, he was indeed.” There was a spark of recognition in the blond's eyes, “that’s why I’m not going to finish my inappropriate remark.” 

“Mm, I get you. Bill is a solid seven and a half.” Pieck shrugged before taking a sip from her beer, “then, I’m assuming you’re dating at least an eight then.” 

“I’m not dating anyone.” Reiner corrected her too quickly, evidently hoping she’d drop the matter altogether. No chance of that happening; tonight, was an intervention for the mess her best friend got tangled in. 

“Right, it’s a fling–” 

“You promised to never bring this up again.” 

“so, you’re not exclusive.” 

“Correct, so you can drop it.” She could tell Reiner was growing irritated with her but she couldn’t back off. 

“Besides, they’re getting married in less than two months anyway.” Pieck remarked, tone measured contrasting to how nervous she was feeling. Her heart sunk in her stomach when she caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched. God, Porco had really got it right this time. 

“Why two months?” Reiner asked quietly before he took a swig from his drink. 

“Because your guy is no one other than Bertholdt Hoover?” Pieck’s heart clenched when Reiner fell silent. 

“I can’t believe it.” She said after a while, at a lack of anything else to say. 

“What can’t you believe?” Reiner wanted to know, “that Bertholdt wasn’t straight? Or that I lied to you?” 

“I can’t believe you got yourself in such a big mess!” Pieck fixed him with a hard stare, but Reiner refused to meet her gaze. 

“I’ve got myself in far worse than this." He said almost monotonously, "Bertholdt and I are friends. He’s far from being dangerous than any of the worst guys of I’ve ever been with.” 

“Do you even hear yourself?” Pieck asked incredulously, “he’s your _friend_.” 

“That’s what I just said. So, I’m going to be fine.” 

“You don’t get involved with friends, Reiner. Because there will always be the one person that will end up hurt.” 

“Annie doesn’t know, and will never know. So, she won’t be hurt.” 

“I’m not talking about her; I’m talking about _you_.” 

“I’m fine.” Reiner was eerily composed while discussing such a sensitive subject, “I’m aware that Bertholdt and I have an expiration date. I’m not delusional.” 

At that, Pieck was speechless again. She wondered what she had even expected from this conversation to begin with. 

Right, she had meticulously prepared her best arguments to persuade Reiner that chasing this fantasy that he and Bertholdt could ever be a thing was self-destructive at best. That he needed to snap out of it lest Bertholdt broke his heart, again. She hadn’t predicted her friend to know all of the above, and to have braced himself for the worst. 

For a while, they stood there, awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze as they watched her ~~ex~~ former classmate perform a frankly stunning rendition of Beyoncé’s _Freakum Dress._ Maybe she could strike a conversation with her afterwards. 

“Inviting exes to your party is a terrible idea. Even worse, hanging out with them.” Reiner said, amused. 

“Spoken from experience?” 

“Again, I don’t date.” 

“Is that a definite statement, or would it ever change?” Pieck asked tentatively. 

“Maybe,” now that took her by surprise, “I’m not exactly in the best place mentally to decide.” Reiner didn’t need to say more, and suddenly all Pieck wanted was to hug him. Except she knew he’d be averse to it right now, especially in public. Pieck knew this was her cue to just leave him be, let him process his own thoughts and emotions on his own. Yet, she was still curious about one last thing– 

“Will you ever tell Bertholdt how you feel?” It was pointless to ask, because she knew the answer to her question. She could tell Reiner was a bit surprised at both her question and the unspoken assumption that he had lied to her, all those years ago. 

“Will you ever tell Porco how you feel?” Reiner asked instead. if his intent was to shake her off as a mean to deflect, he had marginally succeeded.

Pieck’s mouth hung agape, a million questions racing through her mind. Her priority though was to keep her blushing under control. 

“I don’t–” 

“Pieck, I wasn’t born yesterday. Far from it.” 

“We’re friends." She swallowed thickly, "you're just projecting here.” Pieck tried to argue weakly, while puzzled at her own reactions. Why did she feel the need to hide this from Reiner? 

She felt her heart clench when she realized that despite her assumptions that she and Reiner had been so close, they actually weren’t. While she loathed how he kept things from her, she did too. On many occasions. Especially when it came to this particular subject. 

While she pondered on the status of their friendship, it hit her that the accusation that he was projecting was a terrible thing to say. She felt dread pool in the pit of her stomach when Reiner looked completed unfazed. 

“Come on. If you didn’t feel that way about him, you wouldn’t have felt so livid at me for sleeping with him last year.” 

A pregnant pause. Pieck felt her heart sink while she stared at Reiner’s placid expression. 

“Why?” She croaked, “why are you bringing this up, now of all times?” She was aware of the wobbling in her voice but, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Since that incident, the three of them never broached this subject. Not even once. 

“I’m not sure either why you felt like tonight was the appropriate time to demand answers about something you promised to never ask about again, but here we are, I guess.” Reiner replied coolly. She felt uneasy being around him right now. If this was his way for calling her out on her meddling in his life–which she refuses to call it that way, she’s really just worried about his wellbeing–then his efforts were fruitful. There was no better way to deter her from everything she had meant to talk to him about his harmful fling with Bertholdt than this.

It had been so, **hard** to forget about that fateful day, and she had once taken great pride knowing that she and Reiner were able to move past it. Yet, her best friend just undid a year's worth of self-healing with one singular question. 

She wanted to hate Reiner for it, but she couldn’t. He had only mirrored her insensitivity and tactlessness with one of his own. 

When the silence stretched uncomfortably between them, Pieck felt Reiner shift next to her. When she glanced up to him, she felt some of her earlier irritation with him fade when she saw regret etched on his face. Reiner was on the verge of saying something, his mouth opening for a fraction of a second before he ducked his head, almost bashfully. 

“I'm sorry, I'm... I guess I'm a bit tipsy." He chuckled humorously before looking at her, a vulnerable look flashing across his eyes. 

"Happy Halloween.” He muttered before walking past her. 

“Happy Halloween...” Pieck echoed back. She watched as he grabbed a bottle of Scotch from one of the tables before heading downstairs. 

Any other day, she would’ve chased after him. Nagged at him until he spilled what was exactly going through his head. But she was feeling overwhelmed with the rush of memories from last year. The anger, the betrayal, the disappointment, and then the guilt, all at once, made her head spin. It was a pit of despair, one Pieck wasn’t tempted to venture anywhere near it.

She simply knocked the remaining of her drink down her throat instead. 

This night had gone completely off the rails, and she needed a distraction from the frustration bubbling inside of her. She ought to enjoy herself. It was already ten in the evening and her guests were already pissed drunk. Might as well join them. 

That had been her last lucid thought before she knocked down a few shots. Her gaze scanned the crowd for her Beyoncé-dressed ex-girlfriend in a hope that she was drunk enough too to shrug off their past and have some fun, before she spotted Porco. He was sitting on the tarmac of their rooftop, still wearing that stupid pig mask, his plastic axe discarded next to his half-finished beer. 

Pieck tried to ignore him. She tried to look anywhere but at his forlorn figure, sulking and alone. Alas she couldn't. 

What was she exactly doing? What were the three of them even doing? 

They didn’t need a repeat of last year’s scenario. God knows how lonely she had felt during those harrowing months she refused to talk to both of her friends, hurt by Reiner’s callous actions and angered at Porco for acting impulsively, unable to connect to dots together and understand that something had been wrong with Reiner back then. That he needed his help 

Not that she had been any better. She couldn’t fault Porco for not understanding, the same way Reiner didn't. 

She had almost lost them both last year, she couldn’t afford to risk that happening again. She could already feel Reiner slowly slipping away from them, she needn’t also give up on Porco. No matter how much the memories of that day stung. 

He was, right now, the only solid thing in her life. She needed him, as much as Reiner needed them both, even if unbeknownst to him. 

So, she put down her untouched drink and trudged toward where Porco was leaning against the wall. He didn’t make a sound when she slid down the wall and seated herself as comfortably as she could afford on the cold tarmac below them. 

“Hey...” Pieck decided to break the ice for them. Porco said nothing in return. She rolled her eyes, knowing exactly the reason behind his stubbornness to talk to her. 

“I’m sorry I said you put no efforts in your costume,” Pieck bit the inside of cheeks as she practically forced the next words out of her mouth, “it’s actually pretty cool.” It wasn’t. God–it wasn’t and she hoped Porco’s ego would prevent him from seeing through her lie. 

“Apology accepted.” Porco uttered after a heavypause, and Pieck felt relief wash over her the moment she heard those words. 

“So, on a scale of ten, how much did you fuck up that intervention?” Porco eventually asked, much to her dismay. Granted, she wanted to take her mind off the disaster that had once threatened to tear the three of them apart, but that didn’t mean she wanted to contemplate again her earlier blunder with her roommate. 

“How’d you know I fucked up?” Pieck grumbled. 

“Reiner stormed out early of the party after you spoke to him, clutching a McClellan in his hand. That’s equivalent to things going south when it comes to talking some sense into that idiot.” 

“Fine.” Pieck caved, sighing heavily, “it was eleven.” 

“Jesus Christ. Not that I expected any better but, Jesus Fucking Christ.” 

“Yeah.” Pieck’s shoulders sagged as she sighed again, “I guess I owe you an apology too for calling you ‘blunt’ and ‘dense’.” 

“You didn’t call me dense, you said ‘oblivious’ but, fine. Apology accepted again, albeit with minor offense taken.” Pieck giggled in response, and her heart skipped a beat when Porco chuckled softly. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold in a goofy grin of her own when he took off his mask, his usually tamed strawberry-blond hair standing on all ends. She had to fight the dire urge to ruffle his strands even more. Plus, it didn’t look like Porco was using hair gel today, so the temptation was even stronger. 

Despite her earlier wariness about being around him, Pieck felt her spirits lift nonetheless. Being with Porco often did that to her. 

She really loved him. 

The latter thought made her smile, before it quickly faltered, remembering how much she was wasting time while dancing around her feelings. Obviously, she was apprehensive of losing Porco as a friend in case he didn’t reciprocate her feelings, so that had been the biggest hurdle that halted her from confessing her love for him. However, the more she saw Reiner tormented because he hadn’t had the guts to tell Bertholdt how he truly felt for a decade, thus silently watching him, utterly helpless, paving the way for his future with someone else, the more she realized that she ought to step up and say something about her and Porco. 

Evidently, her situation was different from Reiner’s. Porco was factually single, much opposite to how Bertholdt certainly isn't, even if he’s been acting like one. Yet, she and Reiner were still alike, in the way they both refused to face their demons and soldier on. 

Pieck knew that what happened between Reiner and Porco a one-time thing, a slip-up, a mistake. Porco had admitted that much, mortified and unable to provide for the answer she desperately sought but, after all this time, she knew it in her heart that there was nothing more to it. Neither Reiner nor Porco had ever been into each other. And they would’ve never dated each other. That she was certain of. She took immense comfort that those concerns that tormented her a year ago following that incident had been alleviated with time. Her conviction was reinforced with the knowledge that Reiner was head over heels someone else, and if she knew him well, he also wouldn’t settle for anyone else, even if he’d wind up alone. 

At least, that’s how she imagined it. She couldn’t picture Reiner with any other man. And that thought chagrined her. 

“I’m worried about him,” Pieck sighed, absent-mindedly watching the group of people laughing at something Bill said. Thank god he was still here, and nowhere near her roommate. Perhaps the not-exclusive part was only held faithfully from Bertholdt's side. Pieck felt her heart clench in pity. 

“So do I.” Porco said quietly. 

“He’s...” Pieck contemplated for a second whether or not she should tell Porco what Reiner insinuated earlier before caving, “going through a depressive episode. At least, I think he is.” 

“Shit,” Porco straightened up, alert, “we shouldn’t leave him alone then. I should go check on him.” 

“No,” Pieck reached for his arm as he was getting up, “Pock, don’t. He wouldn’t appreciate it.” 

“But what if he’ll hurt himself?” 

“He won’t. We shouldn’t treat him with kids’ gloves. You know how much he hates when we do that.” Pieck asserted calmly, although, her heart sunk at the mere possibility. “We should give him some space, especially after our conversation went downhill.” 

“Give him space to harm himself? What if he gets alcohol poisoning?” Porco whispered, with an urgency to his voice. 

“Porco,” Pieck said warningly, “I know you’re worried but we can’t keep doing this to him. He just needs some time to figure things out on his own. Reiner knows his limits, so he’ll be fine. It took him so much already to admit he was in fact seeing Bertholdt all this time, just as you predicted.” At that Porco slid back on the floor. 

“Still want your twenty bucks?” Pieck asked, in an afterthought. Porco merely shook his head. 

“No.” She knew Porco was just trying to act nonchalant when he was actually anguished. She couldn’t fault him if that had been his coping mechanism. 

“Should I talk to Bertholdt?” Porco wondered after a while. 

“And say what? Accuse him of cheating on his fiance with his best friend?” 

“You're right." He groaned, "I can’t even lie and say I could try to be subtle. Bertholdt’s my pal but, at this point I feel like I’m going to punch him in the face and skip the talking part.” 

“Glad you admit that at least.” Pieck cocked an eyebrow, “crisis averted, I hope.” 

“It is indeed. You don’t have to worry.” 

Pieck hated to say this but– 

“We’re powerless, Pock.” She concurred, a heaviness in her voice, “this isn’t up to us to fix. All we could do is trust Reiner on this.” 

“With how deep he’s already in this shit?” Porco retorted, rightfully skeptical. 

“I know it’s hard to imagine but, he’s shown some growth recently.” Pieck admitted. Her best friend confessing that he wasn’t well mentally instead of bottling it up and plastering a fake smile to fool her into thinking he was absolutely fine, backed up strongly her observation. She desperately wanted to cling to that hope. “Reiner will end it, when the time’s right. And we’ll be there for him.” 

“Because he will be hurt.” 

“I know that. That's why he’ll need us.” Pieck said resolutely, “but right now, we just need to let things play its natural course. If he falls, we’ll catch him.” 

Porco didn’t add anything more, opting to nod gravelly. Pieck’s words didn’t sound as convincing to her ears as she wanted them to be but, she’ll keep faith. 

Last year, they had all drifted apart because they hadn’t known Reiner as well as they did now. Except that this time, Pieck won’t allow it. She'll be there for him, no matter how much he pushed her away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their costumes are as follows
> 
> [Reiner](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a8/fe/1f/a8fe1f8e19fbdabb177891ceaf9d4b7f.jpg)
> 
> [Pieck](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e1/f8/d1/e1f8d134ca483284b6b4df8f202f921d.jpg)
> 
> [Porco](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2f/8a/88/2f8a88d63d75b182efb3e50758222bf5.png)


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Sorry for the long wait. Here's to cheer you up on a Monday. Enjoy xx

** Bertholdt **

Being back home to Brooklyn for the last two weeks soothed Bertholdt immensely. The intonation of what _‘home’_ now implied wasn’t lost on him. He would’ve certainly had an even goofier grin on his face at the realization if Annie wasn’t looking so glum. 

He couldn’t blame her frankly. Losing since the first round in Nationals had been a harsh strike to her self-esteem. One of the reasons he had decided to pack his things and go back to their shared apartment was so that he could be there for her. His heart shattered to pieces when he thought back to that eventful Monday, when the realization had hit all of them that Annie was disqualified, merely five minutes into the tournament. He had barely heard Porco’s mumbled _"shit"_ before he lunged down the stairs in an attempt to reach her, hold her, reassure her that these things happen and that it didn’t exactly reflect her conspicuous talent. His heart had sunk when he took in her visible efforts not to burst into tears. She had evaded his touch when he tried to hug her before she excused herself to the changing room. He didn’t let her reaction sting him then because he knew it wasn't about him. He could’ve only imagined how devastated Annie had felt in that moment, so he didn’t chase after her. 

He hadn’t needed to since as soon as they stepped inside their home, Annie’s composed facade crumbled before she burst into sobs. Bertholdt had known that any comforting reassurances would only fall on deaf ears, if not enrage her, so he just held her until her wails subsided to soft whimpers. 

_You never know the value of something until you lose it._

He knew these were the exact same words that must’ve been racing through Annie’s mind. Although, she hadn’t said anything. 

He wondered who had told him that. It had been a long time before, that he could tell.

Not Annie, not his dad. 

_Reiner_. 

Bertholdt forgot what or who he had been referring to then. 

He felt his heart clench when he thought how those words had rung true for him, about many things in his life, and for years on end. 

Bertholdt shook the latter thought before holding onto Annie tighter. 

_“I know you’re hurt right now. And you have every right to mourn what you lost, but this’ll pass.”_ Bertholdt had uttered quietly when Annie had calmed down. They had been lying down in their bed, the clock having struck twelve a while ago. Annie was facing away from him. 

_“You’ll stand back up on your feet, and do it again. This isn’t where it ends for you. One wobble in your path to achieve what you want.”_

Annie had fallen silent, and for a moment, Bertholdt had wondered if she had drifted into sleep. 

Her next words had proved him wrong, and made his heart sink in his stomach. 

_“It is.”_ She had rasped, _“it is the end of my career, because I’m making it be.”_

_“Annie...”_ Bertholdt had reached instinctively for her before freezing mid-way, reconsidering her boundaries, _“this isn’t the right time to make that sort of decision.”_

_“I know but,”_ she sighed, and Bertholdt had wished he wasn’t facing her back at that moment, _“even months from today, I know it in my heart that the right thing to do is to stop.”_

A pregnant pause, during which Bertholdt had internally debated whether or not he should just let it go for the moment. Let Annie grieve properly. Annie on the other hand didn’t breathe a word yet, Bertholdt couldn’t shake off the feeling that she wanted to say more, but refrained from doing so for reasons he ignored. 

Bertholdt didn’t like it. In that moment, it felt like there was some invisible wall that rose between them. He would lie if he said that that had never happened before– the cracks in their otherwise perfect relationship. Whenever that happened, doubt would start gnawing at him; about what they are, what they could and could never be. He knew every couple went through such hurdles yet, with Annie, sometimes those wobbles seemed like it would be the end for them. 

_“...Besides, I can’t let you shoulder alone the wedding preparations. I should help you, and I’ve neglected that because of the tournament for the last two months.”_

_“Annie, I told you that I can take care of that. Is this what this is about?”_ Bertholdt had asked, puzzled, _“because I assure you, you don’t have to–_ ” 

_“No, it’s not.”_ Annie cut him short, “it’s not about the wedding, and yes, I know you'll be able to handle it on your own, but,” she had turned to look at him then, eyes still red-rimmed, and a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, _“I want to do my part because I just want to.”_

Something hadn’t sat right with him that night; how Annie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, how she might’ve been telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. 

There had been so much he wanted to say– how if it meant she would give up her dream, they didn’t even have to get married this year, or ever. They had each other and that’s all that mattered to him. Marriage was just a piece of paper that meant nothing in comparison to what they had. It had never been a prerequisite for them to spend the rest of their lives together. 

Annie didn’t give him the time to say any of the above, sealing their discussion with a chaste peck on the lips and muttering a weak ‘goodnight’ before facing away from him again. 

\--------------- 

“So, are you coming or not?” Porco reiterated for the second time this morning. 

“I don’t like partying, even less Halloween parties, so the answer’s still no.” Bertholdt sighed. No matter how much he wanted to spend some time with his friends to shake off the somberness that befell upon him as a consequence of Annie’s moping, he just couldn’t bother to neither dress up nor get wasted event if it was a Saturday night. He could think of at least two ways he could spend the eve of the last day of October. Both of those would imply making some progress with special upcoming events in his life (he knew he could be very indecisive but he still needed one more night to decide which flowers they should opt for. Annie not being of help in this subject made it even harder for him.) 

“Your loss.” Much to Bertholdt’s surprise, even Porco didn’t sound very convincing. Almost as if he didn’t want to attend Reiner and Pieck’s party either. Bertholdt wondered why, given that the trio almost seemed an inseparable set to him. 

“Maybe next time?” Bertholdt said apologetically. 

“You mean Thanksgiving? Nah, none of us will be in New York around that time.” 

“Oh.” 

“Anyway, if you ever change your mind, you know where you’ll find us. Bye.” Porco uttered before the other line went dead. 

Bertholdt locked his phone before setting it back on the coffee table. He sighed in relief when he sunk back into the sofa’s cushions. 

For a few moments, Bertholdt let himself get lost in the silence that fell upon the apartment, given that Annie was at work. Truth be told, he had grown accustomed to the quietness of their place during the day. He even thrived in it, when he wasn’t writing his novel. 

Yet somehow, this afternoon, it suffocated him. Annie would be here in two hours but Bertholdt still wished she could be home sooner. 

It had hit him then; how lonely he started feeling recently. Usually, he would’ve argued that it was nothing out of the ordinary; a valid human emotion someone his age is entitled to feel when spending almost every single day in front of his laptop until his partner– who wasn’t that talkative to begin with– made it home almost when it was time to retreat to bed.

However, during these last two weeks he's been home, Bertholdt became acutely aware that he might not be as fond of his secludedness as he once thought he was. The novice thought had started nagging him since the very first days he’s been home, rearing its ugly head almost every time, without fail, the moment Annie would leave for her job. It befuddled him given that Annie has been spending more time with him now that she quit skating. It appalled him when he wasn't even surprised the moment he understood what’s been tormenting him all along. 

He missed Reiner. 

Bertholdt felt a tight knot in his stomach when he thought about his dearest friend. He hasn’t seen Reiner for the last two weeks, save for that awful Thursday night where he acted like pedantic prick to him. Since that evening, they scarcely texted each other. It was almost a silent agreement that Bertholdt needed to take a step back after what happened to Annie. And while Bertholdt never considering any word of comfort he had whispered, any soothing gesture he had done and any hours during which he held his beloved while she wept in grief, a mere obligation to someone who had his back for as long as he’d known her, he still felt guilty for all the times he could’ve seen or talked to Reiner but refrained from doing so. 

At first, he thought that Annie’s gloominess was understandably rubbing off on him. People’s moods easily influenced his after all. However, he soon realized that the absence of a certain man Bertholdt dared only admit to himself how much he adored, was pulling at his heartstrings. He had been tempted, in certain nights, to slip from underneath the covers and tiptoe toward the balcony to ring him up, ask how he’s been doing. Muster the courage and admit how much he missed him, that he wanted– needed– to see him. 

On more than one occasion, Bertholdt almost grabbed his car keys and drove all the way to the Upper West Side, take those two flights of stairs two at once, knock on his door and engulf him in a bone-crushing hug the moment he'd see him. 

Alas, Bertholdt had always successfully talked himself out of it. Because he knew, or rather, he had been persuaded that it’ll only draw suspicions to them both. Reiner had made that clear when one day Bertholdt appeared unannounced at his doorstep. Pieck luckily hasn’t been there yet, Reiner still acted as if they were, well, in the strict terms of ‘just friends’; evading all of his affectionate touches, keeping him basically at arm's length. 

He knew Reiner was right in being cautions, and that Bertholdt himself should learn a thing or two from him. But god, was it irresistible. Being around Reiner made him reckless. And in those moments, Bertholdt couldn’t care the least what might happen, as long as he was allowed to hold Reiner’s hand, to nestle against his side, relive again the intimacy he now thinks he’s only ever been allowed a glimpse of during those months in New Jersey. 

Perhaps that was what it is; something he could’ve had only there. 

_What happens in New Jersey, dies in New Jersey._

They had an expiration date; of that Bertholdt had always been certain. And although Reiner had come close to end it even way before, Bertholdt had been relieved to know he still wasn’t willing to end... a particular aspect of their relationship. 

Now that it’s been a while since he and Reiner had been remotely intimate, or even under the same roof, Bertholdt started to fear that them packing their belongings from New Jersey and heading to their respective homes heralded the end of their escapades. That a new chapter began, unbeknownst to him. 

Bertholdt felt his heart drop. 

He stood back up hastily, feeling his surroundings spin for a second– a reminder that skipping dinner last night and opting for just a cup of coffee this morning was a terrible idea. 

He made his way slowly toward the kitchen, slid two slices of sourdough bread inside the toasted before he reached for the Nutella jar hidden strategically (from Annie) in the corner of the cupboard. He scooped a mouthful, softly moaning in delight. By the third teaspoon, Bertholdt put back the lid on, wary of becoming the person who eats their problems away. 

Holding his second freshly-brewed cup of coffee in one hand, and a plate of toast smothered with blueberries’ jam, Bertholdt walked with careful, baby steps toward the living room. 

As he watched the latest episode of the K-drama he had been obsessed with two days ago without apparent interest, and after realizing he had devoured his breakfast like a starved wolverine, Bertholdt decided that he couldn’t allow his galloping thoughts to torment his brain and body any further. 

He needed to define the relationship. His and Reiner's, that is.

The other had managed to do so, and so would Bertholdt. It wasn’t lost on him how even after all these years, he was once again following Reiner’s lead. But even if that realization left a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew it was for the best. 

Reiner was taking a step backward so neither of them loses what they have now. So Bertholdt would do the same. In less than two months, he will be married to Annie. He’ll be the happiest man alive, because he loves her. And Reiner **will** remain his best friend, because he– 

Bertholdt tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat, as it was recently prone to do every time he almost finished the latter thought.

The first time Bertholdt took notice of the new way he started feeling toward his childhood friend, was after he had spent a night at Reiner's place, when he hadn't been able to make it to New Jersey because of a vicious migraine. It was when he was holding him to his chest, as the words _"eres lo mejor que me he passado"_ tumbled out of his lips so easily, before he could help it, that it hit Bertholdt then. 

He had taken a shuddering breath as the pieces of the puzzle fit together. All those times he had pondered on the pull he'd feel whenever seeing the other. The way he could listen to talk for hours about almost anything, hanging onto every single word of his. The warmth that would bloom in his chest when the first thing he'd open his eyes to would be Reiner's peaceful, content face, flaxen hair mussed and features relaxed, dozing off without a worry in the world.

Then a plethora of questions flooded the front of his brain; when and how were the most redundant of those. 

But there was one he found himself wondering about the most; why now? Why not before he was engaged and in love with someone else?

He knew it wasn't his calling but, he still hated himself for it. 

As a matter of speaking, Bertholdt knew everyone knew he loved Reiner. Albeit, in the exact same way his friend loved Pieck and Porco. Everyone knew that, and no one bat an eyelid at it. However, they might if they come to their knowledge that Bertholdt was a different case. 

Bertholdt shook his head forcefully as if to dispel the latter, agonizing thought. 

He will never allow that to happen. He was unequivocally fortunate to meet Reiner again after seven years. To have him again in his life. Bertholdt will do his utmost to not self-sabotage that. He had lost him once. He couldn’t afford to lose him again. 

No more ludicrous, appalling displays of hideous jealousy. No more talking with his foot in his mouth. 

He wouldn’t ruin for himself one of the things he cherished the most. 

\----------- 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Bertholdt uttered, still breathless, “do you want to join in?” 

“Uh... No, you go ahead.” Annie replied from where she was tucked under the covers, evidently still trying to catch her breath too. Bertholdt nodded to himself before he trudged toward the bathroom. 

He waited until the water reached just a hot enough temperature to soothe his muscles without scalding his skin. He sighed in relief as the water dribbled down his sore muscles, feeling as if with every droplet, some of his worries were being washed away. He knew he took too long to shower or bathe than the average person, and that he ought to do his part on preventing the foreseen global drought. Yet, prolonged, almost burning hot showers were one of the few mundane pleasures he liked to indulge himself in. 

When he reemerged from the bathroom and stepped inside their bedroom, toweling at his wet hair in the process, Bertholdt furrowed his brows in confusion when he took in the sight of Annie, sat upright on their bed. 

She looked visibly rattled, pale as a sheet. 

“Annie?” Bertholdt began tentatively, his heartrate starting to pick up again, “you alright?” 

When Annie turned to look at him, he felt confounded by the flashing panic crossing her eyes. Before he could even question it, it was gone. 

“Oh, it’s... it’s nothing.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

“Annie you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I’m fine, Bert. I–” She swallowed thickly, “it’s just that, Hitch.” 

“What about her?” 

“She broke her hip.” Annie confessed. She was clutching at the sheets so tightly her knuckles seemed to whiten. 

_“Shit.”_

“Yeah... She’s been complaining about searing pain on and off and I thought she saw a physician about it. I–I mean, she told me she did and said she was fine, as long as she takes it easy.” 

“What part of participating into a Nationals tournament was taking it easy?” Bertholdt muttered to himself. Hitch and Annie were so much alike– they never stopped pushing themselves to their limits until their bodies gave in. Perhaps it was why they bonded shortly after the first time they met in the first place. 

“Well, sometimes when it comes to the one thing you hold most dear to yourself you can’t help but turn a blind eye to all the red flags flashing in front of your eyes.” Annie said, her voice suddenly icy. The shift in her tone threw Bertholdt off. 

“Anyway, she’s off the rink for an indefinite time according to her doctor.” Annie shrugged, her tone neutral again, “at least I won’t be alone in coping with not having to skate for who knows how long.” 

Bertholdt nodded, at a loss for anything else to say. Something was off about Annie’s whole demeanor. And for some reason, he just knew he shouldn’t pry into it. 

“I’ll go see her on Monday.” Annie said after a while, before she grabbed her phone. 

“Weren’t we supposed to go see the florist on that day?” Bertholdt asked as he changed into his pajamas. 

“Hitch shouldn’t be alone.” Annie said in a that tone of voice that left no place for further discussions, “you should be fine on your own. Just insist that it’s out of the question to not have Eryngium Bourgatii for the bouquet.” She concluded before she switched off the lights on her side. 

“Alright.” Bertholdt said as he slid underneath the covers. 

As much as he still felt puzzled by the way Annie was acting, he decided he shouldn’t dwell much on it. Hitch’s accident most likely reminded Annie of her own all those years ago. 

She just needed her space and he should let her have it, “goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back. Although, I'm not sure yet as to what the posting schedule will look like, especially since I'm co-hosting the Reibert Week 2021. I'll keep you updated as to how things will pan out. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hear your feedback x


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Enjoy xx

**Reiner**

“S’cold.” Reiner grumbled, feeling sullen. He could barely feel the tips of his fingers due to the icy cold of a November night. He had forgotten to check the weather forecast before going out along with bringing his own gloves. 

While he had grown up in the northern side of the country, so he had a higher tolerance than the average person to the cold, tonight was proving to be exceptional. He realized too late on his way that he wore the wrong _coat_ too. 

Well, he could think of one explanation to his heedlessness; his head has been often in the clouds recently. 

Pieck had pointed it out too, before cursing herself under her breath. He might be imagining things but, it’s like she’s recently dialed down with her usual nosiness. Reiner wanted to frown upon her abrupt shift in behavior but, he felt relief, nonetheless. It felt nice to be spared the question and the prodding once. 

“Here.” Bertholdt breathed from beside him, and Reiner peered up curiously. His companion reached for his left hand, meshing their fingers together, before tucking both their hands in the pocket of his far warmer coat. 

“Better?” Bertholdt wanted to know, sounding somewhat timid. Reiner ducked his head, bashful for reasons he didn’t dare delve into right now, before he muttered a weak _‘yes’_. 

Granted, his right hand was still cold even if tucked safely in his own coat’s pocket but, it was the sentiment that mattered. Reiner didn’t dare shatter such a serene, peaceful moment by discussing technicalities. 

Reiner dragged his gaze back toward the magnificent view of the Hudson River. New York: the city that never sleeps, yet even on a weekday, the streets of Lower Manhattan were noticeably less crowded. It didn’t escape Reiner’s notice how that made Bertholdt feel much more laid back and at ease. 

Reiner chanced a furtive glance to their surroundings. A few months ago, he would’ve rolled his eyes at the way everyone seemed to stand or walk in twos, holding hands and clinging to each for warmth. He marveled instead at how much his life– how much _he_ – changed in the course of ten months. 

Had he been asked a year prior where he would see himself at the end of the year, he would’ve never envisioned this; being in a relationship. 

Or as close as someone like him had firmly believed they could ever get in their life. Finding a job which he loved that wasn’t constantly seeping at his lifespan. And being able to open up about how he was doing mentally. 

Reiner’s heart clenched when his thoughts circled eventually to Halloween night, when for the first time in so long he brought up the unspoken thing between him and Pieck. The mistake, among so many others, he wished to go back in time and undo. 

In some nights, he started thinking if perhaps that one was far from being his worst fuck-up. That he was currently committing an even leaden one, no matter how cathartic it had felt at most times. 

“Hey.” Bertholdt’s voice tore his from his thoughts. He must’ve felt the way he seemed to tense by his growing saturnine dwellings. 

“Hey.” Reiner said back, before squeezing Bertholdt’s warm hand in his own. He felt a rush of affection for the man beside him when he smiled at him so warmly. 

He shouldn’t let his mind venture into unwarranted territories. Not tonight. 

They haven’t hung out together in so long. And it's been even longer since they’ve done so, out in the open like this– be it like friends, like a couple– anywhere outside the cramped walls of a motel room in New Jersey. He'll always cherish those days for as long as he’ll live but, it felt good to be together outside. Blending in with the passersby, with the regular couples. 

Reiner had never had the opportunity to feel what it’s like to be dating. Evidently his affair with Bertholdt couldn’t remotely qualify as such when trying to conform to the actual social norms for courtship but, Reiner never really abode by the rules anyway. He had always either been an **I** , or a **we** when it came to nights spent at the bar with his friends. College hadn’t even been that different. He had never tried to co-exist with another human who could understand him on a level none of his friends, or anyone on this planet, ever could. 

His childhood friend, and the man he always yearned for, wound up being the one person with whom he had shared things about himself no one else other than his own brain had been privy too, and had wept unashamed while rocked gently and being whispered to sweet reassurances that Reiner, for once in his life, tried to believe to turn out true one day. 

That same person touched him, kissed him, and held him like no one else ever did. Loved him, in his own way, like no one has ever done before and for that alone, Reiner will always be grateful for him. 

Reiner had vowed to himself that one day he’ll try and relive what he and Bertholdt had, bitter and sweet, with someone much more available. Whom he can bring to actual double dates with hopefully Porco and Pieck, without alienating any of his friends and family. 

However, the more he thought about it, the less likely it became again. What once had been a resolution of his, his one of god knows how many steps to recovery, was slowly fading away. Reiner reasoned that it was because a certain day was looming closer each day, each second, with which came a certain sense of apprehension and a desperate desire clinging to a present he knew he was never even entitled to. 

Deep in his heart, he will always want Bertholdt as that person for him. As _his_ person. But he knew he never could. 

Resigned to his inevitable fate, Reiner was once again feeling melancholy creep up on him, slowly and steadily engulf him like a mantle. The familiar pit of despair calling out to him, _taunting him–_

“Reiner,” Bertholdt’s voice sounded almost distant, as did the once animated chatter of all the people around them. The stark contrast of the other’s gloved fingers stroking his cheek gently sobered him up a little from the spell that fell upon on him. Focusing on that feeling against his skin, Reiner tried to anchor himself to the world around him. 

“You’re here. You’re with me, and nothing bad can get you.” Bertholdt murmured quietly, articulating every word carefully, slowly albeit firmly, and Reiner tried to hang on to every word he breathed. He closed his eyes when Bertholdt pressed a kiss to his forehead, before his arm circled round his shoulders almost protectively, pulling him against his chest. Had he been less out of it, Reiner would’ve pushed him gently away. 

He had made it crystal clear that outside of that motel room, any public display of affection was out of the equation. That anything they could ever be would always be exclusive in their safe haven across the Hudson River. Part of it had been out of caution. The other part was so he couldn’t delude himself into believing for a single second that this was anything more than a fling, no matter how much they both loved to sugarcoat it. 

Yet, here they were. Here _he_ was; nestled to Bertholdt’s side, the other’s arm slung protectively around his form, running up and down his arm slowly, soothingly, so he could keep him present without overwhelming him. Reiner hazily remembered the walk back toward his car, or when Bertholdt helped him inside to the passenger seat after making sure he could be alright in an enclosed space. 

Reiner couldn’t keep track of how much time went by since they had been inside the car, heater switched on, his fingers intertwined with Bertholdt’s now gloveless one. 

A glance after what felt like an eternity told him they’ve only been there for half an hour. 

“How’re you feeling?” Bertholdt asked him gently. 

“I’m alright.” The words tumbled out of his lips, out of habit. He cleared his throat, “I mean... I feel better.” Reiner sighed, and Bertholdt squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bertholdt asked tentatively after a while. 

Reiner fell silent for a while as he mulled over whether or not he should be honest. Unfortunately, honesty would shatter this bubble they created for themselves. Reiner didn’t want to risk that. 

“I was just thinking about New Years’ resolutions.” He said instead. It was half the truth anyway– it had been the catalyst to the state he spiraled into almost an hour ago. 

“Isn’t a bit too early to think about it? I think we still have like, half of November and December until then.” 

“No, I– I meant the one I made at the end of last year. It just... got me thinking.” Another lie; Reiner hadn’t made any. He just made a resolution on New Year’s Eve when he didn’t have a shift at the Mcgee’s to stick to one glass of scotch for the entire night. He ended up downing the whole bottle in record time, woke up the following morning with the most atrocious hangover and made a sweeping declaration Porco and Pieck cackled at to never get that drunk ever again. 

He obviously broke that vow in less than a week. 

“Oh.” Bertholdt said simply. Reiner could almost see the gears turning inside his head. “Um, isn’t it still a bit early to think about it? I’m trying to not to think about mine.” Bertholdt reiterated again before he chuckled nervously. 

“Oh yeah? Moving to New York, signing a contract to at least have a three-book saga and marrying the one girl you’ve loved all your life– still have any regrets?” Reiner teased, willing his voice not to pathetically break at the end. 

An unreadable look flashed across Bertholdt’s feature making Reiner frown, but before he questioned it, a dazzling smile tugged at Bertholdt’s lips. 

“And meeting my best friend in the world again and enjoying every second I spent in his company, so no, no regrets whatsoever.” He breathed sincerely, green eyes searching his amber ones. Reiner felt his heart skip a beat. 

A moment passed between them, one of many Reiner recognized as carrying much more than he felt ready to face. A moment where he felt confused, devastated, happy– all at once– and it was more than he could handle right now. Or ever. 

“Are you hungry?” Reiner blurted. 

Bertholdt blinked. 

“I haven’t eaten anything since twelve so, maybe we should grab some food?” Reiner fished for his car keys in his coat’s pockets before handing them to his companion. 

“Oh, y–yeah. Um, it’s been a while since I had any food too.” Bertholdt confessed, unable to conceal the surprise from his voice. When their fingers brushed momentarily as Reiner handed him his car keys and Bertholdt dropped the proffered items because Reiner flinched like a besotted idiot, he prayed that this evening could take a turning for the better. 

\-----------------

The rest of the evening went much smoother than it began. They ate hot dogs while they strolled down the Riverside Park, chattering about mundane trivia. Much to Bertholdt’s chagrin, Reiner couldn’t help a chortle escaping him when the other admitted he needed to sit down after less than thirty minutes walking at their (or rather, Reiner’s) slowest pace. 

“What can I say, I'm good at many things, but keeping in shape isn’t one of them.” Bertholdt grumbled as he sipped from his cup of mulled wine, his cheeks tinged an adorable pink. 

“Bertholdt Hoover, vanity won’t get you anywhere.” Reiner chuckled when the taller man sputtered in response, turning a fiery shade of red. 

“I– I’m not– it's not what I– _stop laughing!_ ” Bertholdt stammered, making Reiner laugh even harder. Bertholdt looked cute when flustered. Actually, Bertholdt always looked cute. 

His companion cleared his throat after he regained a modicum of composure. “It’s just... I’ve been busier than usual.” Reiner’s smile faltered, as he read between the lines and remembered the upcoming, most important event in his friend’s life, for which the preparations took most of his free time from writing. “I haven’t even had time to even go out for my daily walks. Plus, it’s been really cold the last three weeks.” 

“Up until last January, you’ve lived all your life in Idaho.” Reiner remarked absent-mindedly, omitting to comment on the other’s first statement. He knew it was hypocritical of him to tease him earlier about it, then loathe it the second Bertholdt started talking openly about it again. 

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s freezing outside and much more comfortable to blanket-up and read a book or watch a show or... do nothing.” He shrugged. 

“Blanket-up? Wow. Now I understand the lull of getting married; you can say and do anything you want, no matter how dumb it is, yet you still get laid.” 

“Hey!” Bertholdt punched him lightly on the shoulder in feigned offense. 

“Careful!” Reiner warned though he was too late; half of his cup was already spilled on the ground. Despite poking fun at his physique, Bertholdt could really underestimate his own strength. While it was _very_ appreciated under certain circumstances– at the top of which being privacy– this wasn’t one of them. 

_“Fuck. Shit_.” Bertholdt said at once, setting his own cup on the small space next to him, before cradling Reiner’s burnt hand, trying to assess the damage. “I’m sorry, does it hurt.” 

“I’m fine, Bert.” Reiner reached for the extra napkin he had snatched earlier from the hotdog stand, “just a few droplets got on my hand,” he said as he wiped at his hand hastily, trying to conceal his wince before he moved to dap at his chinos, “my pants, however...” 

“Reiner, I’m so sorry, here, let me–” 

“I’m _fine_. I can manage.” Reiner tried to reassure him, “and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t crap over marriage to someone who’ll be tying the knot in three weeks.” 

Bertholdt fell silent to that. Then that same odd look settling on his features, the corner of his mouth twitching, his lips set in a hard line. 

Twice this evening, Bertholdt reacted this way at the mention of the impending wedding. Reiner still vividly remembered the times Bertholdt would be gushing, in his own reserved and timid yet, endearing way, about getting married to the woman he loved the most in the world during the first months he moved to New York. While it stung Reiner every time the subject came up, his mind has registered it as the ordinary, predictable behavior he could expect from Bertholdt. 

Right up until recently. 

Reiner couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when this subtle but unmistakable shift in demeanor at the mention of what ought to be the happiest day of his friend’s life exactly started. The obvious answer would be when they started sleeping together. Reiner just assumed it was common courtesy to never mention the person they were both wronging whenever they were together. It was the same way whenever you’re dating someone, you pretend that you’ve never dated anyone before them. 

At least according to Porco. (Boy, that won’t age well when he and Pieck will eventually get together.) 

Although even back then, Bertholdt never looked this... troubled at the mention of marriage or... Annie. 

Granted, they started hanging out again only recently, their last time having been that night at the bar where they almost had a public row before Reiner ducked out early, both because he was upset and afraid that it could get ugly, and _obvious_. 

Since he had that breakdown in front of his childhood friend, Reiner had avoided him for the next few days right until Annie’s tournament. Seeing the brunet again that day didn’t wind up as stressful and awkward as Reiner had initially anticipated, since they had been there to root for Annie. He barely had the time to contemplate the status of his and Bertholdt’s friendship, and the ways the prior Thursday would affect them before his friends’ in-unison swearing jarred him from his inner turmoil, heralding that he ought to focus his attention on Annie who had been just disqualified from the tournament she had spent months training for. Months, sweating blood and tears, while they... while he... 

“Reiner, you OK?” Bertholdt’s concerned voice jostled him from his tormenting thoughts. Reiner looked down at the soaked napkin clutched in his hand. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mumbled. 

“Do you want to call it a night and drive you home?” Bertholdt asked again and Reiner turned to look at him. 

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair to anyone. Not to Annie, or to him, or to Bertholdt. He hated that no matter how much he pondered it, no matter how many times he told and retold their story in his head he still ended up being the bad guy. 

Everyone will eventually hate him. And he will hate himself even more than he already does. 

“Reiner?” 

He lost count of how many times he swore to himself to attempt to fix the unfixable. And that no matter how much growing and healing he thought could get from this once in a lifetime experience, that this was still a hideous affair that should’ve ended long ago. 

Yet, as always, all it took was one look at Bertholdt’s face, his gorgeous eyes and his tender gaze to make his resolve crumble. 

Before he could think it over, his hand was cupping Bertholdt’s cheek, stroking a calloused thumb over his cheekbone, then his lips were pressing against Bertholdt’s chapped yet soft ones, vaguely aware of his sharp intake of breath, of his momentary freezing before the other was kissing him back, his slender fingers framing his face delicately. 

The charade will have to end. But Annie was in Chicago until Monday. 

As he felt the need for air claw at the back of his throat, Reiner broke their kiss but still couldn’t tear his gaze away from Bertholdt’s starry one, or his flushed cheek or parted lips. 

_Tick, Tock_

“Let's book a hotel room.” Reiner breathed, his heart skipping a beat when Bertholdt nodded vigorously before he grabbed his phone, thumbing at his screen with trembling hands. 

Reiner stood up brusquely, startling Bertholdt in the process, before he apologetically offered him his hand, which the other accepted without a second thought. 

Everything around him was dulling down to a blank, a nothing, he couldn’t care to acknowledge or think about. All he could frankly feel was the warm hand clasped in his as they both strode back toward his car. 

_Tick,_

_Tock_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Labrinth's amazing music to fuel me through writing this chapter.
> 
> I still haven't figured out an updating schedule. Getting back to writing after my exam turned out harder than I expected and this chapter actually took me more than a week to write, so, bear with me for a while. 
> 
> In the meantime, thank you everyone for reading and for you feedback xx


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I have finally worked up the motivation to work on this one. Enjoy xx

**Bertholdt**

Bertholdt blinked his eyes open, staring momentarily at the unfamiliar ceiling above. He knew he ought to be at least alarmed at his strange surroundings but, for reasons he neither dared no cared to pinpoint, the weight of someone laying half atop him reassured him that no matter where he was, he was exactly where he wanted to be. 

Christ. He knew he was a sap but lately he’s been out of control. 

A deep inhale followed by a soft grumble he’s heard now countless of times and grew very fond of tugged a lazy smile at Bertholdt’s lips. He peered down, careful not to move much and wake his sleeping companion, and felt a rush of affection– of **love** – for the man still snoring softly despite the late hour of the morning. Yesterday’s events haven’t been exactly pre-planned and Bertholdt was thankful this was Reiner’s day off. Perhaps if he tried, he could manage to doze off for an hour more, or until Reiner would wake him up later. 

Or he could watch Reiner sleep some more. 

With the last thought in mind, Bertholdt reached down and thread his fingers through Reiner’s flaxen, disheveled hair. A soft hum escaped the other’s lips, and Bertholdt for once didn’t try to ignore the way it made his heart skip a beat. Scratching lightly his lover’s scalp with his fingernails got him predictably a stronger reaction– a delightful moan which made Bertholdt’s mind flash involuntarily to the previous night, where the other was way less self-conscious about how loud he could sometimes get. It was an ego-boost for Bertholdt, whom experienced first-hand, with time, how liberating it was to let go of his hang ups and let his lover know how great he was doing. But it was also an undeniable turn-on which made Bertholdt shift slightly away from Reiner lest he– 

“’m ‘fraid I can’t go for a third round.” Reiner murmured against his chest, eyes still closed. 

“It’s a new day, I think the counter naturally resets.” Bertholdt retorted for a lack of anything else to say. 

“Are you kidding?” Reiner’s voice came out muffled so he looked up at him then, eyelids still drooping from sleep, “we’ve been up till three in the morning.” 

“I say sleep is what heralds the stop on the counter and waking up is–” Bertholdt was silenced when a firm kiss was planted to his lips, successfully making his insides melt. He parted his lips almost instantly, moaning when Reiner angled his head, deepening their kiss, before his hand snake around the back of his head, tugging slightly at his raven hair. Soon, Bertholdt felt himself overwhelmed by a flood of emotions Reiner always stirred up inside him every time he kissed him, touched him, held him or merely looked at him with that kind, tender gaze of his. 

And when Reiner adjusted himself so he could pine Bertholdt underneath his body, memories of being in this exact same situation rushed to the front of his mind. Hours ago, when he was writhing beneath his lover, legs strongly locked around Reiner’s waist and nails raking his pale, broad back while the other moved in and out of him, each thrust harder, faster and driving him to the edge. 

Bertholdt couldn’t fathom the urge he had felt the previous night as he asked or rather practically pleaded for Reiner to fuck him. Certainly, he had fingered him before and while that had felt heavenly, what he had been wary of at first turned out to be just as earth-shattering as Reiner had told him before. 

When Reiner straddled his waist and started kissing a line from his lips to his stubbled jaw, then his neck before he mouthed at his pulse point, Bertholdt wondered if Reiner was starting to get in the mood despite his earlier objections. When the other started grinding his hips against his hardening length slowly and ever so teasingly, Reiner’s intentions were no longer up for guessing. 

It made Bertholdt falter and make a double take, despite his brain feeling like a haze from lust, as he remembered a particular moment that could’ve ended their night in a much more awkward, even disastrous way. 

Last night, when Reiner had him just on the brink, after having sneaked a hand beneath the small of his back, hoisting him up slightly so he could hammer on a sweet spot inside him that made his toes curl, Bertholdt was on the verge of blabbering something he knew he could only ever keep to himself for as long as he could live. 

The words had been just there, on the tip of his tongue, as he gasped and moaned lewdly against Reiner’s ear. In his last attempt to regain a modicum of control, he bit Reiner in the junction that joined neck and shoulder, which had been the other’s tipping point as his orgasm washed over him. 

As Reiner kissed his way downward now, goosebumps rippling in his wake as his kisses grew wetter, Bertholdt briefly wondered what would’ve happened had he said the words. How Reiner would’ve reacted to them. 

Evidently, he’d be surprised but, what if he would be weirded out? Or worse, horrified? Would he push him away? Or let him down gently? 

He knew in his heart that Reiner was a kind soul but, he doubted he often got confessions of love and adoration in the throes of passion. His friend has assured him that all his former lovers were nothing more than bed conquests, albeit with a deeper philosophy Reiner had often dodged talking about whenever the subject came up. 

Still, getting an unwarranted admission of love that wasn’t mere infatuation or the platonic kind Bertholdt firmly believed they both felt for each other... that left so much room to his vivid imagination, and tugged at his deepest insecurities. 

Bertholdt’s morose thoughts dissipated the moment Reiner pressed a kiss at the base of his throbbing member. He gasped when the blond trailed open-mouthed kisses along his shaft until he reached the tip of his cock, giving the slit a tentative lick before he took the head in his burning hot mouth. 

He could worry about all the hypothetical scenarios later when he would be alone and not in the company of the man he’s deliriously in love with. 

\------------- 

“Fuck!” Reiner cursed under his breath as he sunk back into the pillows besides the taller man, while the brunet reached for the tissue box on the bedside table so he could wipe off the cum splattered on the wall behind him. He tossed the dirty tissues on the trash can near the bedside table before plopping back down on the mattress. Bertholdt turned to look at his lover; Reiner was shielding his eyes from the sunlight filtering through the blinders of their room, his chest heaving as he tried to will his breathing back to normal. Bertholdt relished in watching Reiner come undone under his ministrations. The other looked so fucking gorgeous; flaxen strands spilled over the pillow and face flushed, his blushing spreading to his neck and that broad chest of his. 

“This isn’t fucking fair.” Reiner muttered. 

“what’s not fair?” 

“You,” Reiner shifted on his side and they were once again merely inches away from each other’s face. God, how Bertholdt wished he could kiss him again and again and he’d never grow sick of it. “It’s not fair that you’re so fucking good at everything.” 

“I’m not good at everything. No one is.” Bertholdt averted his eyes humbly. 

“Fine. You’re good, nay, _brilliant_ , at eating me out.” Reiner shrugged before leaning in, whispering as if conspiracionally, “who taught you?” 

Bertholdt’s tried to keep his blushing under control, “only the best teacher I ever had.” It was Bertholdt’s turn to shrug, not helping a smirk from quirking the corner of his mouth. 

“Mm. Can’t wait to meet him.” Reiner murmured, his voice taking that sultry tone that Bertholdt just couldn’t resist. He swiftly closed the distance between them, his head for once only full of thoughts that revolved around how much he loved kissing Reiner, holding Reiner and making love to Reiner and tease out all those beautiful sounds out of him. 

Though as much as he loved doing all of the above, unfortunately he could tell that Reiner was indeed worn out now, from the way he could merely press short, chaste pecks to his lips while rubbing soothing circles to his back. And if he was being frank, so was he. Plus, it was really getting late and his stomach would soon start grumbling embarrassingly if he didn’t get any food in him any time soon. 

“Do you have plans for today?” Bertholdt asked when they both pulled away. 

Reiner simply shook his head before resting his forehead against his. 

“Would you like to spend another night... with me.” When Bertholdt breathed the words, he immediately wished he could take them back. He's never hesitated before, or at least after they got over their awkward-getting-to-know-each-other-again phase, from asking Reiner to hang out more with him. However, now he was suddenly crippled with the fear of coming across as presumptuous. Certainly, Reiner was the one who asked him to spend last night with him but– fuck. He felt like he was sixteen again and everything made him so flustered and unsure. 

For a fraction of a second, Bertholdt wished he could be back to being blissfully ignorant of his own feelings and– 

“I’d love that.” Reiner murmured sweetly before pecking his cheek, and Bertholdt felt like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He was really panicking for nothing. 

“But, breakfast first,” Reiner said firmly then cocked his head in that fashion he’d always do whenever he’s mulling something over, “actually shower first _then_ breakfast and seriously, no second rounds.” 

“Ha! So, the counter does reset.” Bertholdt chirped happily as he admired Reiner’s nude form trudging toward the bathroom. 

“Shut up.” 

“Ow.” Bertholdt whimpered as they staggered to the hotel’s diner. They had pondered whether or not to get room service but decided against it, concurring it’ll do them both no good to spend the entirety of the day cooped up in a hotel room, no matter how strong the temptation was to. 

“Yeah, it’s... a feeling. Muscles I don’t think I’ve even known existed.” Reiner provided not so helpfully and all Bertholdt could do is grunt in affirmation. 

The soreness in his abdominals and legs were somewhat alleviated, or rather pushed further back to the back of his mind, as soon as the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled his nostrils. He had been feeling euphoric still from his earlier exertion but, he felt his mood boosting ten times fold when he was practically gobbling down his third croissant for the day, which elicited a laugh from Reiner. When quizzed about it, the other merely shook his head, a smile still etched on his face as he dug in his own omelet. Bertholdt shrugged before getting back to his own food. 

It was far from being the first time that Bertholdt had noted the comfortable silence that settled between them, without Reiner twitching to start a conversation or Bertholdt’s flee or flight responses revving in. It took them ten months to get here; not just able to appreciate how comfortable they felt around each other but also feeling that it was the most natural thing in the world, that Bertholdt scarcely now had the time to marvel at it. 

He felt like he hadn’t just known Reiner this way for less than a year, but ten. Perhaps even more. 

As they trekked through the hotel’s vast garden, Reiner swaying gently their clasped hands, Bertholdt mused at how to everyone’s eyes, they didn’t look less than a couple. His heart fluttered when he thought that most people, under this light, would’ve assumed they’ve been together for a long time. In a way, they wouldn’t be technically wrong, if you subtracted the three previous years of radio silence and the four before where they have tried their best not to drift apart, or rather, Reiner made the fruitless effort for them both. 

The latter reminder of his one of many fuck-ups made his heart sink but, he tried to contain his own misery. How could he be chagrined by a past he couldn’t change, when Reiner was beaming at him as he tucked a stray buttercup behind his ear, before pushing on his tiptoes and kissing the corner of his mouth? 

Still, despite his efforts to just enjoy the present for as long as it could last, his earlier dwellings on his and Reiner’s relationships, how solid and long lasting it might appear to the outside eye kept pulling him back like a magnet. 

It started initially as mere whispers at breakfast time, and kept getting louder and more insisting, following him back to their room upstairs. 

When Reiner's lips were moving against his in synch, teeth nipping at his lower lip, calloused fingers carded in his hair and legs tangled with the sheets, lost in a fervent make-out session, the tantalizing thoughts morphed into one single question he found himself desperate for answers he wasn’t sure he ought to seek. 

“What’s on your mind?” Reiner’s soft-spoken words jostled him from his galloping thoughts. 

“Nothing,” Bertholdt said breathlessly, perhaps too quickly. 

“Bertholdt, I know when you lie. You can’t even look me in the eyes.” 

“It’s really nothing serious.” Bertholdt said again before realizing his mistake. _‘Nothing_ _serious’_ was still _something_ and now Reiner won’t let it go. He felt like slapping himself. 

“Bertholdt.” Reiner cupped his face gently, worry etched on his face and Bertholdt felt like slapping himself mentally. “Talk to me, please.” 

“It’s really stupid.” Bertholdt muttered to himself, now practically squirming under Reiner’s inquisitive stare. 

“If it’s got you this upset, then it’s not stupid. Come on.” Reiner insisted. Bertholdt closed his eyes when his friend leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, lingering for a second. 

It was a stupid question, frankly, because Bertholdt shouldn’t even be wondering about it in the first place. 

Why? Because he felt like he had his answer. 

He knew what Reiner would say; he’d just laugh and brush it off. And Bertholdt will have to laugh too, no matter how mortified or heartbroken he’d feel. 

And yet, with how nervous Reiner was looking, Bertholdt decided he shouldn’t make it hard for him too. He was dying to ask and, Reiner was visibly fidgeting the longer he kept him waiting. 

“It’s just that... well,” Bertholdt swallowed thickly, still refusing to meet Reiner’s eyes, “I’ve been thinking about... us.” 

Reiner fell silent, his hand retracting from his cheek, and Bertholdt instantly missed his soothing touch. He barely finished his sentence and Reiner looked visibly distressed. 

“How’s this stupid to you?” 

As Reiner uttered those words, it struck him then– what Reiner thought this conversation was. He had to spill his thoughts fast lest this became complicated. 

“I mean, us, in the hypothetical, alternate life or timeline where there’s an us...” 

“Bertholdt, what the hell are you talking about?” Reiner positively sounded alarmed. He couldn’t blame him honestly– he was making zero sense. The more he took his sweet time, the more he was torturing both Reiner and himself with his inability to be articulate when it mattered. 

“What I’m trying to say is: did you ever think of a hypothetical life where we’re a thing– I mean, an–an item?” 

“Bertholdt, I’m really not following here–” 

“If Annie and I never got together, would you have thought of giving us a shot?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry  
> Update: I'm sorry for taking so long with the next chapter, not only it's a bit difficult to pull through but reibert week is coming upon us—2nd of march so don't forget! I got half fo this chapter written and edited so far but my other entries require my full attention. Hope you'll tune in for the next chapter which i hope to get up after RB week.  
> Take care and thank you all for reading and commenting xx


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